Contrary
by Wandering Wayfarer
Summary: All it took was one slice of pie to end up dying in one world and getting reborn in another. One accident to go from living in safety to staring at danger in the face. Mallow doesn't mind this sudden change of pace, but she does have several questions concerning the monsters looking to have her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. /SI-OC/
1. On Earth No More

_Hi, hello~ Guess who decided it's about time she contributed something to the piles of SI stories already found in this lovely, little website. I'd say try reading the whole thing before deciding whether there needs to be a pressing of the back button and pretending you hadn't just wasted a couple minutes of your life, but it's really up to you.  
_

 _So, here's my own attempt at a self-insert. Well, technically, an original character insert, because I'm very sure the character in this chapter is leagues away from my actual personality and identity... I think. ANYWAY. Do read on!_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Note to self: the next time someone told me not to eat something because it came from a highly questionable source, take them seriously instead of being an idiot and eating the food anyway. Maybe then I wouldn't have ended up six feet under with a headstone that said, "Here lies Hope Summers, bested by a slice of pie."

Or, well, avoided a very irreversible outcome, full stop.

You see, by not falling prey to a deceptively good-looking dessert, I would've been able to continue thriving in the pandemonium known as public high school. And by not becoming yet another victim of natural selection, I would've been able to a lot of stuff: graduate, get to college, earn a living, finally get kicked out by my _loving_ aunt and uncle (they've been waiting to do that for _years_ ), graduate again, live to a ripe old age where I could get away with yelling at kids to get off my lawn...

And so many more.

But most importantly, not end up in a situation where it turned out that a sudden death was the _least_ of my problems.

That last part was actually what made me really, _really_ wish I noticed that tinge of green on that pie's filling. Because the moment I realized where I ended up next—which was someplace pitch black, cramped, yet surprisingly warm—all my earthly concerns became minuscule in comparison.

I mean, I've gone from seeing the light to floating in the dark. I was suddenly a lot more sightless than all three blind mice combined. I was weak, and I was… who knew what else, because I sure as hell didn't. My mind drifted in and out of consciousness at long intervals. My sense of time had gone to the seven winds. I was _stuck_ in this place without so much as an explanation.

And, if I thought I was already Lady Luck personified, this place, wherever it was, was also steadily growing smaller and smaller. That was not a winning combination at all.

When at first I had room for moving a body part or two, now I could barely do so much as kick the wall. Which had been my past time during my lucid moments… I was really bored, okay?

Ahem. Anyway.

Forget about the hows and whys. Forget about whatever I lost in the process. Mourning? Seven stages of grief? Hah, no time for that, and there wasn't really a lot to mourn about, anyway. I needed to get out of this death trap before I was squished like a grape. _That_ _'s_ my priority.

Fortunately for me, I had a plan. It was so simple, it was ingenious.

Based on the assumption that everything has a way out, it would also imply that this place had one, too. Whether it was a simple hole, waiting to be pried open, or something a bit more complex that might involve some extensive maneuvering, an exit was an exit. And if I could find it, I was well on my way to sweet freedom. It was a _great_ logical assumption. Had to be.

So, I did the first thing that came to mind.

I fussed and fussed and fussed like my life depended on it. I squirmed, moved my arms, legs, _anything_ that could get me going. I didn't stop until I found a way out. I also could've sworn I've heard some muffled, panicked voices from somewhere as I continually launched my weak assault against the taut walls, but I decided that I was going to bother with that later.

Eyes on the prize, champ—well, figuratively speaking.

Eventually, in what seemed like forever, I felt it. That movement. That _pressure_. Overwhelming at first, but relieving at the same time because I was finally _sliding_ down to somewhere. For a moment, I thought my head was going to explode since my way out was a tight fit and weirdly squishy. But then I slipped through and…

And I immediately felt cold. And wet. And slimy, like I've just been extracted from a pool of, well, slime. Disgusting. And yet… pretty interesting. Ooh. I tried to touch my body so I could get a feel of the stuff—curiosity was probably going to kill this cat someday—but then I couldn't.

Huh. As it turned out, I might have escaped that prison, but I was still weak as a newborn. I've got matching sets of jelly arms and legs.

Well, that bites—hey!

The next thing I knew, I was being manhandled. There were hands under my head and body, like I was being carried. Actually, I was. I wouldn't say it was done bridal-style at all, considering how the hands felt _huge_ in comparison, but it was somewhere close. Still, ugh, creepy.

Was I being handled by a giant? An _alien_? Did they finally have a reason to visit Earth? And more importantly, did it involve anything I might actually fancy?

I blinked my eyes open, ready to verbally lash out at the bastard all the same, but then all violent, sadistic thoughts disappeared with a poof as I realized I could barely see anything. The colors were too vibrant, the edges too blurry, and the light… gah, too blinding. Like staring at the sun, only worse. The most I could make out before I shut my eyes again were huge, moving, flesh-colored blobs that blended with some other colors, mostly light blue.

Okay, not an alien then.

Darn.

I was then submerged in water, cleaned off, and had a blanket wrapped around me. At least, I _thought_ it was a blanket, soft and comfy as it felt. I made a mental note to find out what kind that was so I could buy it sometime in the future.

Still…

T-this was all getting a bit too much, really.

Okay, scratch that. Understatement of the year, right there. I really, truly couldn't understand what was happening.

Maybe my disoriented brain had something to do with it, maybe not, but it was one thing after another and I really could use a break. I was dead, and now I was… what, exactly? Something else? Unamused beyond all reality? Mystery of the day right there.

So, overwhelmed beyond belief, I responded to my situation with the only way I knew how. I cried like I've never cried before. It was almost instinctive, almost, gosh, _natural_ and if I hadn't been putting my all into that long wail like I was aiming to win a platinum medal (gold was for losers) for bawling, I probably would have realized that my voice was off. Very off.

Hell, I probably would have noticed many other things, too. Things that might have made me go into cardiac arrest at the nearest opportunity or, at the very least, in a coma for a couple years.

Alas, I remained blissfully unaware.

Things only became a little less chaotic and a little clearer once I was finally passed to someone else. The moment I felt myself being pressed against something warm, my crying stopped. I didn't hesitate on leaning into that sweet, sweet warmth like my very existence depended on it. I didn't even _care_ what it was.

Too cold. Too freaked out. Need comfort. And sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. _Gimme_.

"Congratulations, by the way," someone then said. "She's quite an adorable baby, don't you think?"

…

 _What?_

* * *

 _London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down..._

* * *

London bridge was right. Never in my entire life had I envisioned myself becoming a pink raisin wrapped in blankets. Even worse, a _baby_. Was it too late to ask for divine interference and have time reversed? Because I could use some time-reversing. Nothing too fancy, just a rewind here and there…

Oh, scratch that, make that a lot—I'd sooner get a lifetime's worth of detention with boring, coma-inducing Mr. Brown from history class. Heck, I'd rather get my ponytail cut off again by a bully from fifth grade! Not… this.

The fascination of being a fifteen-year-old in the body of a baby could only last for so long. At first it was all oohs and ahhs, pretty colors and funny shapes, but after the novelty had worn off… I wouldn't call my days "barrels of fun," exactly.

First, there was that part about losing track of time because I alternated between waking, sucking the sweet, sweet nectar known as milk from a bottle, being hummed lullabies to, being rocked (while fearing for my life because dropping was _not_ what my thrill-seeking self would even enjoy), sleeping… rinse and repeat. Busy, busy, busy. It wouldn't be until several months down the line when things finally slowed down to a more lucid pace. But by then, I was pretty sure I was twitching from all the madness.

Then there was that part about having to develop my body again. Which was absolutely not fun at all. There was my blurry sight, which didn't completely clear up until I was several months deep into the whole infancy thing, and then there was my body. The traitor wouldn't move how I wanted it to. Punching something instead of gripping it, rolling to my left when I was aiming for my right, crying instead of cussing someone—anything—out… Argh. It was only after a lot of time had passed before I could even do so much as grip my blanket and keep it that way for as long as I could.

(Or, if I felt adventurous, roll myself around said blanket until I closely resembled a burrito.)

What about sitting up, you ask? Oh, that was still fifty-fifty in regards to success. There were days I'd be the victor and I'd let out a pleased yell, and then there were days when my head somehow decided to be as heavy as the dumbbell I accidentally flung against a window years ago… which had me babysitting the kid of the family who owned the house for a month. And standing? In my dreams, darling.

I didn't think it possible, but I actually missed my old body. Sure, people made fun of me for still looking more like a preteen despite being fifteen (for the love of _God_ , Marcus, I was a late-bloomer and going out with me does not make you a pedophile). But that body was _controllable._ And _free._ I could jump, kick someone in the shins, push them into a swimming pool (with the knowledge that said victim could swim), run like hell, do a food fight, anything. Now, if I could toss my baby bottle over the crib, I'd be lucky.

On the plus side, it wasn't all doom and gloom. There was still a big enough silver lining to not plot revenge against the person responsible for my current predicament. Not that I could, but the sentiment was there.

Anything I could possibly think of doing, I got away with it. If I decided to just… let off steam because of my frustrating situation, I got a bottle of milk for it and a lot of snuggling. I could sleep whenever I wanted, and nobody would wake me up because not a single soul was crazy enough to incur the wrath of a wailing infant. Nope, I slept and slept like nobody's business—more than half the time, I was even the one waking people up. And if I broke something, I didn't get chased out of the house and disallowed to return for a week.

I was also still growing. Which meant that, in due time, I was going to be back with a vengeance. Just you wait, Earth, I'll be getting my revenge. Hehehe…

…

Whoops, lost myself for a moment there.

Anyway. The cherry on top, though? I had _parents,_ which I never had before. Aunt and Uncle said I lost them when I was three, but apparently, the reason why varied like the phases of the moon. They'd sometimes mutter about them dying in a car crash. On a good day, they'd say they died saving me from an accident. I think there was also something along the lines of them doing hardcore drugs and left me at their doorstep to continue their addiction… but I still liked the heroic version the best.

Still, if I was forced at gunpoint to say what good dying gave me, it was most likely this. And speaking of parents…

I heard the distant footsteps before I heard the whoosh of a door sliding open. I didn't know whether it was because my hearing was just that insanely sensitive at this age, but any sound I heard, even from afar, rang pretty loud in my ears.

 _Step, step, step. A couple more_ _… and then… stop_. A shadow loomed over me as a smiling woman leaned into the crib.

Enter Mom, the person who was always around since day one. She was probably the last person you'd guess to be a mother with the way she presented herself in clothing and action—like she was always fresh out of a fashion show in Paris—but here she was, beaming down at her own infant with the warm fondness that mothers had a natural talent for.

Admittedly, there were still some things about her that I found weird. Braided, bubblegum pink hair (probably dyed); clothes no doubt high-end but peculiar in a way that I couldn't put a finger on; and a scent that sometimes varied between metallic and earthy, like she'd been either spending time in a welding station or the great outdoors. Seen a lot of action. But maybe that was just me. I

I was the neighborhood eccentric from time to time, why couldn't anyone else be?

"Hey there, Mallow, sweetie," she said, ruffling what little hair had grown since my birth. I could've sworn there was also something else on my head that felt strangely sensitive to her touch, but again, that was probably just my wild, out-of-control imagination. My mental health did get a bit compromised after the unbelievable discovery that there was life after death.

That, or my milk was spiked.

…And, oh, right. Hope Summers was now an ancient myth and in her place stood Mallow, last name still unknown. Mostly because I hadn't heard it thrown around in the room yet. Took some getting used to, though; I didn't always respond to it. What I did know, though, was that somewhere down the line kids would be picking on me for being named after a marshmallow. Just those little ankle-biters try.

I put on the gummiest smile I could muster and let out a pleased noise. _Hi, Mom._

Mom's smile grew a thousand watts brighter. She reached down, picked me up, and started carrying me out of the room. As if to answer the curious stare I sent her, she said, "We're going out for a walk today. It's about time we both had a little sun, don't you think?"

"Guh," was my very eloquent reply. I started playing with her hair as we walked.

Y'know, I'd once thought that it was going to take some serious acting skills to convince anyone that I wasn't a fifteen-year-old in a baby's body. But after making a lot of responses and doing actions by sheer instinct alone, coupled with a just-do-the-first-thing-that-comes-to-mind attitude, that fear turned out to be baseless.

I was a _natural_.

…I was also apparently living decently, financially speaking.

As Mom carried me around to explore the house a bit (she'd noticed me staring curiously at everything and indulged), I couldn't help but go glassy-eyed over how tastefully-decorated everything was. The hallway we've passed through was decorated with all sorts of fancy paintings. The ceilings high above were lit up by equally fancy lights I'd usually see on display at a home furnishing store. The master bedroom that my parents no doubt had their, ahem, private moments had a king-sized bed that I'd kill to jump on, along with wooden and glass furniture that made me wonder how many zeroes were involved in the purchasing of all these stuff. The kitchen was pristine, and the dining room made me think of a restaurant, except smaller. Then there was the living room that was the physical embodiment of "rest and relaxation" and "making people realize that the ones that welcomed them into the household did _not_ screw around."

I'll admit, I was probably painting too extravagant a picture there, considering I came from a more modest kind of lifestyle. What seemed expensive to me might just be because the way they looked. So, maybe my parents were just good interior decorations and made a humble adobe resemble a shiny palace. Not that I was complaining. _Never,_ perish the thought.

Anyway, it was at the living room where we both stopped. I was placed on a stroller that oozed soft comfort, taken outside, and then we got rolling. As we set out, I heard my Mom run a soft commentary about how my dad was getting so busy that the last time he saw a ray of sunlight not filtered through a glass pane was more than a month ago.

I considered that for a moment. So, my parents were busy little bees. Not just in the bedroom on their private time. That could mean some neglecting was going to be involved, but I've handled worse. I doubted anything was compared to the nightmare known as my relatives begrudgingly raising me to become the fine, upstanding citizen I used to be. They were like the real life version of the Dursleys, minus the having-to-live-in-a-cupboard part. Or the hand-me-downs… or the magic. Darn that last part—I _loved_ anything fantasy.

I guessed that was another pro in regards to kicking the bucket. No more having to deal with them. Good bye, hasta la vista, see you, wouldn't want to be you. I might just enjoy my new life, after all.

Mom and I walked for some time under the cool, afternoon sun. Judging from that nip in the air, not to mention that nice, crispy, orange leaf that drifted into my stroller, it was currently autumn. Goodie, that was my favorite season. That crunchy sound of leaves being stepped on was music to my ears.

Be still, my heart.

Darn it, I said _be still._

We passed through several houses along the way, indicating that we were somewhere residential. But whatever enjoyment I got out of seeing everything painted orange immediately went down the drain the moment the architecture of the houses caught my eye.

I wasn't deluded enough to assume I ended up in the same place as before—I'd have to have the equivalent luck of winning the lottery for that to happen—but even if I was armed with that knowledge, I still couldn't tell what part of the world I lived in now. And that threw me off a lot. Not knowing.

But if I had to take a guess, I was probably not in America. The houses looked too aged in design. Definitely not the kind that were screaming to be decorated with toilet paper. Too dignified to be vandalized. I'd probably just end up being guilty over ruining such a fine-looking piece of architecture.

So, maybe… Europe? Yeah, that might just work… except it was definitely not _modern_ Europe.

I think I've seen pictures about what kind of houses these resembled. From history class, I think? Or even those hardbound books I could knock someone out with. The name was at the tip of my tongue, though. Curses. Must've been during those lectures I slept through.

But if I _was_ in Europe, then there would've been a distinctive accent. My school's had its share of exchange students before. Most of them often stuck with whom they were familiar with instead of interacting with us hellions, but there was no mistaking that impressionable twang whenever they spoke. My mother had no telling accent whatsoever.

…

Ugh, shiver me timbers, what a pain to think about. I could already feel my brain demanding I just cease and desist and take things one at a time.

That was exactly what I decided to do. I took my own advice like it was the sagest thing since time immemorial. So when Mom stopped to point out something interesting, like two black birds fighting over a piece of bread, I put my all into focusing on exactly that. Whatever mumble-bumble my brain did about how out-of-place I was and how I was being set up for a huge surprise was willfully ignored.

Lalala, can't hear you, lalala. What's that? The fridge was running? Well, better go catch it.

Alas, despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but continue feeling that something was off. Very off. A moment of mulling that over had me realizing that this was the exact thing I felt when I first saw that slice of pie that killed me. Another note to self: trust the gut. It could potentially save me from future pie-related disasters.

Whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, though, was up in the air right now.

My ponderous mood persisted the entire trip.

Mom was blissfully unaware.

* * *

We went out for a stroll again the next day. But instead of doing some aimless wandering, this time we headed towards the park.

Ah, the park. The perfect place for people of all ages. Okay, they were generally people with equally unique fashion tastes as my mom, but they were people all the same. Grandpas and grandmas sitting by the stools and feeding the birds… joggers secretly out-jogging their buddies… teenagers who were dangerously toeing the line between public decency and stripping each others' clothes off then and there… and kids like me, either infants in strollers or walking, talking little hellions running around the playground, going down the slide, commandeering the swing set, or…

Punching each other's lights out?

I, Mallow, did the one thing I rarely envisioned myself doing. I did a double-take.

The result: I really didn't imagine it. The kids I saw, probably around ten or eleven, were really _fighting_. And it wasn't even your typical schoolyard fight where there was hair pulling, some blind punching or kicking, a lot of kids cheering, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" and a lot of crying. Instead, the kids were moving and dodging around in a way that was, oh, my heart, _practiced_.

No. Trained—that was the word I was looking for. Each strike was well-placed, though not always accurate, and definitely intended for a specific body part. They were also backflipping, twirling, or doing those leg-sweeps I thought were only restricted to action movies. Not neatly since there was still a lot of stumbling involved, mind you, but they were doing it again and again like it was a core part of their very being. And it was _awesome_.

Though for the parents? Maybe not. Unless they were psychopaths. Or sadists.

I decided to steal a glance at my mom as she rolled me towards the nearby bench. There was little to no trace of alarm on her face. In fact, she actually looked _nostalgic_ as she watched the kids continue having a go at each other. I could have even sworn there was a sigh merrily involved.

My jaw dropped at that, and before my mom even noticed such an atrocious, out-of-character reaction, I quickly picked up the rattle beside me and shoved it into my mouth. Tried to, anyway, because the thing was huge. And probably dirty… oops.

I decided to perish any germ-related thoughts and focused on observing at the other adults milling around... and they weren't even remotely appalled. Heck, they might as well be watching their kids play with dolls or toy cars. Absolutely no care in the world—there was a person even coaching one of the kids! _Punch there. No, no, you_ _'ll want to throw off her balance. Okay, here, a kick would've been better. No, you're still doing great. Keep going._

…Either I landed in an alternate dimension where knocking the everloving socks off of each other was the norm, or I was dropped on my head this morning and I just didn't remember it.

Eventually, the two tired each other out and concluded their fight as a draw. They grinned, turned to their parents watching nearby, and moments later, the two families made their way out of the park like there wasn't anyone fighting for their lives five seconds ago. In fact, a closer look at kids as they passed by my mom and I showed that there wasn't even so much as a red mark on their exposed body parts. No swelling, bruises, nothing. Or blood. Why was there no blood? The last time _I_ was punched in the face, I was called "Panda" for days. No cookies for any correct guesses as to why.

"Next time, I'm totally gonna kick your butt!" one of them said, unaware that I was staring with wide, fascinated eyes.

The other kid snorted. "Yeah, right! By the time that happens I'm already a Huntsman and you're still training to be one."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-uh!"

"You're just saying that 'cause you think you're the best on Remnant."

Pause. "Yeah, well, we'll find out if that's true. And if it is, you're totally getting wrecked."

That was the last bit of conversation I heard from them before they completely gone from sight. However, it didn't occur to me until several seconds later that they were so far already that I _shouldn_ _'t_ have heard their hearts' deepest desires. Yet somehow, I still did. With clarity. Like they were actually just close by—and were shouting.

That was utterly cool and alarming at the same time.

Just when I thought that was the most outlandish thing I've realized today, though, recalling those kids' conversations made me pause and realize that there were bigger concerns. Huntsman? _Remnant_? I might have been more of a B-average kind of person, but there was definitely something about those words that cracked a fine dent in whatever I'd been making myself believe.

From the way it was put in that context… Remnant sounded like a place. A _world_.

But that was silly! I was still on Earth, was I not? Maybe I was just born in a very isolated country somewhere in the world. And English was the _lingua franca_. Yeah, that worked, didn't it? Of course it did! Haha, why ever should I believe otherwise?

Mom saw me staring at the kids, sat me on her lap, and smiled knowingly. "I suppose that should've been a more fitting way to introduce you to the world of Remnant, sweetie. You might be seeing a lot more of that when you grow up." At my confused stare (which she definitely confused for me thinking she was speaking gibberish or something equally alien), she nodded like she'd been making a lot of sense. "After all, someone's gotta be able to keep the nasty monsters at bay, right?"

For the second time in this entire lifetime, I ended up echoing the same word I've thought of after I realized I've turned into a baby.

 _What?_

* * *

 _And London bridge came falling down._

* * *

A/N: _And before anyone asks, yes, Mallow is definitely what you wouldn't think of when the word "absolutely serious" comes to mind. There will be those moments if the situation demands it, but for the most part? Pfffft._

 _Standard "no OPness or I'm supah dupah perfect" rules shall apply here. I like the thought of imagining how a character would react when sent into another world, but I'm not one for power fantasies. Or whatever counts as Mary Suedom, anyway, because it seems that's everyone's primary concern. That said, m _ore info about Mallow's current family background, and general info, will come in the future - I'm trying not to show everything in one chapter.__

 _Like the story? Hate it with every fiber of your being? Feel free to leave me a scathing review, a favorite, or a grudging follow. I appreciate feedback, good or bad!  
_


	2. A Park, Some Bullies, and a New Friend

**Chapter Two**

The resulting days after that world-breaking revelation were surprisingly anti-climatic. Instead of breaking into constant hysterics and feeling trepidation whenever I thought about my new world, I went through each day without much fanfare. They were even spent in the funnest way possible. And like the filthy little exploiter that I was, I abused the freedom from responsibility that came part and parcel with the infancy experience.

…

Actually, I lied.

No, there was no inclination to bring out the streamers, the party poppers, or even ninety-nine red balloons. There was no jumping in joy, either, no "Woohoo! Suck on that, common sense and logic!" and most definitely no goofy dancing as a result of getting the kind of thing geeks everywhere would go green in envy for. The urge to do any of the above was just not there at all; I even put my heart and soul in it, only to get a grand effect of nothing.

Instead, the moment my mom finished talking to me, I let out a weak, forced giggle and let her put me back on the stroller while being none the wiser. She wasn't aware of the shift in her daughter at all; she never noticed how I became silent and thoughtful, just like the time when I came home from this traumatizing field trip to the museum.

…Ugh, I still had nightmares about that one.

Anyway, just because I basically stopped being my self-proclaimed mischievous self didn't mean that I've sunken into depression, either. Let's face it, _nobody_ had time for teenage angst—people were more likely to blow it off unless there was a lot of cold, hard cash involved. There wasn't really much of a point in sinking into that particular tar pit when I've got bigger fish to fry.

Sure, there was still that lovely fact that I died before I could even do so much as poke at my life's greatest dreams. Maybe even win a lottery or two and lose all that money in the casino. But I didn't feel the need to grieve, to regret, or heck, to bargain, either. It just wasn't _there_ , even when I expected it to hit me with the force of a rocket-boosted truck. You could threaten me with guns or bodily harm and I'd still be hard-pressed to wish things happened differently.

Perks of a rather crappy life, eh?

So instead of feeling any kind of emotion about this particular revelation, I felt more like I was stuck in some no man's land between acceptance and denial.

See, I might not have been the smartest tool in the shed—academically speaking, anyway—but I still felt skeptical enough to doubt if I really _had_ landed myself in another world entirely. Maybe even a universe. So what if the houses were different? What if every person I've seen so far were practically rainbows personified thanks to the color of their strange clothes, hair, and even their _names_? For all I knew, that was what being the future, cooler version of Earth was like. Earth was out, Remnant was in. The monsters Mom talked about could mean anything: terrorists, murderers, rapists, scums of the earth.

 _Literal_ monsters? I scoff at thee.

But what about those munchkins I saw earlier, you ask? How was it humanly possible to pummel each other into a pulp and come walking away from the fight with nary a scratch—heck, how could a kid even continue fighting despite getting the beating of a lifetime? With a stupid grin, no less!

Admittedly, that was a pretty good hint that things might not be as ordinary as I'd thought. Much as I got a sick thrill from watching all that action happen in front of me like it was all just a show on TV, it wasn't a normal occurrence in modern society. You didn't just come up to a person and punch them in the face; that was just _wrong_. Thus, in a manner of speaking, that spectacle might even be enough to convince me that whatever I've learned should be unlearned because being in a new world meant new rules, new concepts, new _everything_.

But then I hadn't seen enough to be fully convinced.

…Would I even want to see it all before I had to be? It sounded like something that could flip a personality 180 degrees. Gosh, I think I must've been watching too much TV.

On the other hand, if I _did_ land myself in a new world called Rem… something, was that really such a bad thing? Let's say that there was nothing to convince me otherwise. That without a single shred of doubt, I died and reincarnated into this new world with all the wonderful newness and all the new wonderfulness that came with it. There wasn't any reason for me to raise pandemonium over something that was permanent.

More importantly, I was _alive_. Not rotting inside a cheap casket or even just a wooden box. That was what mattered the most, was it not? Life, not death. A continuation of a storyline cut short before it reached the climax. Hope Summers died and became Mallow while other unfortunate souls were either in the afterlife of their dreams or in limbo… or in hell. If you believed in those kind of things, anyway.

Besides, it wasn't like I was completely bad at adapting to change. My old life was proof of that. I could even think of a few examples.

Boring classes? You napped through that and made a joke out of the resulting detention. Intensely complicated math homework that was a guaranteed F for idiots like me? Find a study buddy, sneakily copy their answers, and claim innocence once accused. Or bribe them with money. And if Big Bertha from that class-that-must-not-be-named started bullying you again, you plotted out revenge pranks, waited for the right moment, and listened to the sweet sounds of suffering echo all across the campus.

Change was there, whether I liked it or not. And as a classmate put it once, "It's there to stay, so stop being a whiny bitch."

Wise, wise words, indeed.

Whatever this world was or whatever side of the universe this place was located, there was no need to start running in circles and claiming this was all some weird conspiracy by the government. What's gone wouldn't come back. I should just nod to myself and march on like a hero ready for battle. That made for a better mental image than cowering in a corner because _someone_ took my baby bottle.

No mourning what I left behind. My old life—everything. My tears were better off being shed for a dead goldfish.

To recall, my parents either died or ditched me, my relatives hated me (for being a waste of their resources), my classmates hated me (for being weird and just, _weird_ ), and sometimes, even my dog did (for not giving him that treat I promised him—okay, that was really a mistake on my part and I completely admit my guilt). Friends? Those traitorous little punks had loyalties that shifted at the drop of a latest school rumor. Also, my teachers often gave unfair marks and that was _not fine_.

Definitely better off here, I decided. There might still be a chance that my life wouldn't be all sunshine and even more sunshine, but it would _still_ end up being better than what I had before, that's for sure!

I was now Mallow, and I resolved to enjoy every single second of this lifetime or die trying.

Well, not die, but somewhere close enough that still involved breathing, at least.

I was fine. I was going to be fine. And I really needed to get back to reality before my mom _finally_ noticed something was off.

And so I did. I ditched my temporary existential dilemma, sunk back into the present, and returned to being the ideal baby that my parents would adore.

…Of course, by the time I _was_ back to being warm and cozy with reality, two days had already passed. I realized that I was no longer in my stroller outside during the crisp, Autumn afternoon.

Nope, I was actually inside a car on a rainy day and was being rushed to the hospital because Mom—and Dad, if I wasn't wrong about who the dark-haired person on the wheel was—mistook my blank, unresponsive state as symptoms of a fatal disease. _Parents_.

The ensuing hilarity and incredulity between my parents and the doctors were something I'd remember for years.

* * *

Four years.

It took me four years before I finally felt like I figured Remnant out enough that I could easily pass as one of its many inhabitants. Actually, I started with something as mundane as figuring out my own brand spanking new identity, but it was practically clockwork from then on. That is if clockwork meant learning _all_ the things without any concern for proper order and with more focus on which shiny thing attracted my attention first.

It should be illegal for Remnant to possess so many shiny things.

"Mallow Leticia Adel, you come here right this instant or we're not going to the park at all!"

My mom's voice cut through my thoughts like butter and made me immediately stop in my tracks. There went my own little march of doom across the hallway, which was technically more of a running and hiding game from the powers that be, ended by a threat to not go to a place I seemed to be taken to less and less each passing day. I turned around and stepped towards the woman like a prisoner awaiting execution.

Turned out, there wasn't any reason to be scared. While Mom had sounded stern earlier… and for a moment there, pretty demonic… she was grinning victoriously by the time I was right in front of her, ready to (grudgingly) acquiesce to her putting of That Forbidden Thing on my hair.

To be more specific: a big, white ribbon.

Curses, foiled again.

"See how easier life is if you just obeyed everything like the good girl you used to be?" Mom said as she moved around me, knelt down, and started working on my hair. In a fond tone, she added, "You little hellion."

Despite myself, I grinned mischievously in response and said nothing at all. Mostly because of the royal title I wore with pride and because my mom was an utter expert in the art of hairstyling. Her fingers always managed to soothe the savage beast. I just hated the ribbon she had to put on me, that's all.

So, anyway, back to that portion about me getting used to Remnant. For starters, as my mom mentioned earlier, I was Mallow _Adel_. Daughter of Caramel Adel (Mom) and Domino Adel (Dad), at your service. And no, sorry, I didn't give out autographs. Granted, I only got that last name because Dad decided to adopt Mom's surname when the two of them married, but yeah, I was now an Adel and I was going to wear that surname with the manner of dignity my station demanded… hah, kidding. Actually, more like with a big, stupid grin on my face because Adel rolled off the tongue quite nicely.

Mallow Adel. _Mallow. Adel_.

See?

The whole family stuff was admittedly one of the less exciting things I learned about first, especially when I considered the fact that we were technically the less prominent family among the more famous Adels—Mom had an older brother who was rich as balls, married, and last I heard, with a kid my age whom I've yet to meet in person—but it was a start and pretty much laid the foundation of which I stood upon.

Although, now that I've thought about it, that might just be the only thing that made enough sense to pass off as normal in my old world. As for the others…

"Now, for the finishing touches." For a short second, I felt a firm tug behind me. "Voila."

The pressure at the back of my head faded.

…Oh, she was done. I'd gotten so relaxed that I nearly forgot that there was a crazy world beyond my even crazier thoughts. I briefly wondered what sort of occult magic my mom practiced to have that kind of hypnotic effect on me.

Mom stood up and took several steps back to admire her handiwork. Realizing I was free, I turned around and, remembering that I was pretty displeased from having been forced to endure _the ribbon_ yet again, felt for the silky material behind me with my fingers, lowered said appendages, and pouted.

"Oh, sweetie, don't look at me that way. It looks _good_ ," Mom said. Easy for her to say when the clothing style appealed to her tastes than mine. She smirked at my unconvinced expression. "Actually, thanks to me, you look fabulous. Go on, have a look at the mirror!"

I crossed my arms. "Don't wanna."

"Yes, you do, if you want to go wild in the park again."

And that was how I found myself inside my room, five minutes later, staring at a pink-haired little girl in a cute and equally ribbon-y dress. I looked like Alice fresh out of Wonderland, minus the oh-crap-where-am-I look and the blonde hair. Of course, the only reason why it took five minutes to reach a place that would only take four less—or why I went for my room's mirror and not the one standing innocently in the hallway—was because I was riding this drama as hard as I could. Which meant slow, heavy steps, a whine or two, the works.

It was shallow. It was immature. And I got a free pass because I was _technically_ a kid and… okay, I might be getting too immersed in my role these days that I never really thought much about my own actions and how off-putting they were to some random audience out there. The concept of being a teenager was an alien one at this point.

…

Well, it was true! Cross my heart and hope to die. Excuse you, feeling more and more like a kid the longer I was one worked to very much to my advantage. At least by acting immature and _being_ immature, nobody would be aware of the scheming fifteen-year-old that lurked beneath. Better than being found out as the biggest weirdo since time immemorial, if you ask me!

Besides, it was fun. Even if it involved baby teeth falling off, learning stuff from scratch, and the torture and suffering known as potty training. Among other things, like gripping a pencil right.

I threw my reflection a raspberry before twisting a little and taking a look at the ribbon my mom put at the back of my head. Huh, what do you know, it did look good this time—oh. Darn. Of course, every time I _tried_ to feast my eyes on one specific thing, the two fox ears perched on my head always managed to steal my attention like the whores that they were and shoved everything else out of the limelight.

Remember that part where I said something about some other things making far less sense? This, right here, was exactly one of those that broke the illusion of Remnant closely resembling Earth.

Apparently, Remnant's population didn't just consist of a bunch of humans trying to live their lives without getting mauled to death by anything and everything that existed outside the _safe zone_. Monsters, apparently, and people were either scared of them or determined to wipe them off the face of the world.

No, Remnant also shared space with another bunch of people that happened to possess one animal appendage, be they ears, whiskers, horns, tails, maybe fangs, or anything that made anyone and everyone think the person near them was not your average flesh bag.

The Faunus.

The first time I saw my fox ears, the shock was enough to make me burst into tears and run crying towards Dad, who was the person there at the time and had patiently explained how I was fine, I wasn't a mutant, and I was most definitely not going to be dissected by scientists (well, okay, those last two were just conjecture on my part since I was an incoherent mess, but they were still something I worried about). He even showed me the fuzzy tail he had behind him as his way of saying I wasn't alone in this.

That hadn't been one of my finest moments.

Honestly though, I didn't know _how_ the faunus came to be. Parts of me wondered if some weird form of bestiality was involved sometime in history, which would be awkward, and parts of me decided that however it did happen, crazy genes and even crazier DNA had played a part in the evolution process. Which would be neat. Currently, though, what I _did_ know was that something like this would never have existed on Earth.

Man, the scientists back there would be orgasmic at the idea of exploring a faunus' genetic makeup, never mind if that scenario was my kind of nightmare fuel—

"See? I told you it didn't look bad at all."

I whirled around with wide eyes and saw my life flash before them.

I hadn't been "myself" during those intimate moments of solitude.

I was so done for! I was—

Mom let out an amused chuckle as she approached me, showing no signs of having seen anything that might cause her to freak out like she did years ago. More like, she found it funny that I looked like someone who's seen the ghost of Christmas past, present, and future combined. At least she didn't bend down to pat my head this time; my fox ears were too ticklish for my own sanity and that just _bothered_ me.

I was quick to put on a pout, anyway, just to be safe.

"I do."

Mom scoffed. "No, you don't."

"Mommy, I hate th—gah!"

I spoke too soon—the woman patted me on the head! I recoiled like I'd just been attacked by a hyena. Adding insult to injury, Mom ended up looking even _more_ amused instead of hurt. Or worried. She laughed, shook her head seconds later, and said, "Come on, sweetie, time to go."

The three magic words were more than enough to make me forget her previous, heinous crime.

Right. The park residing between the commercial district and the district where I lived. The place where I get to spend an entire afternoon again and dig holes in the sandbox, go as high as I could on the swing set, send things flying with the seesaw, or even play tag with the brats who decided a faunus was too different from a "normal" kid and bullied me for it. Of course, the only reason why I called it a game of tag was because I ended up being _it_ every time I pretended to have rabies and chased them like a madwoman. The utter fear in their beady, little eyes brought tears to mine every time.

Huh, maybe that was why we rarely went to the park these days; I was singled out every time for being the only faunus—by sheer bad luck and coincidence—in a playground full of "normal" people. Only reason why it hadn't been much of a glaring problem for me was because I was so used to it in my old life, I'd learned an appropriate amount of countermeasures against it.

Still. We were going to the park for some fun. Yay!

I brightened up like a light bulb and quickly took hold of Mom's outstretched hand.

* * *

Maple Park hadn't really changed much over the years.

For starters, while there were a few additions like a couple flowerbeds and a wicked-looking jungle gym, the place was still home to an ungodly amount of maple trees (which was probably where the park got its name from) and a lot of pigeons. The grass was still as green as ever, freshly clipped and waiting to be ruined by the next asshole that ignored the "Don't step on the grass" sign, and everything else constantly underwent maintenance that it became a matter of asking whether there was a time they didn't look brand new.

Then there were the kids who still went to the place and had time of their lives. Boys, girls, anyone with a keen sense of what's fun and what wasn't. No faunus today, though, which was more often than not. Still, some of them were faces I saw from time to time, with the more recognizable ones being my usual tormentors, and some were those that were just _there_ , spending the day in blissful apathy until they suddenly weren't. That happened sometimes. Especially to the parents, minus the 'being there for fun' part. It was like they suddenly slid out of the picture one day, you know?

Knowing what I did about Remnant now, even if I'd yet to witness its darker side in person, I wasn't dumb to not know why that happened to some people. But I didn't wish to tread on _that_ particular territory just yet.

 _Anyway_ , the park still remained to be my favorite place out of all places in this part of Vale. Where else did I get to run wild and remember how much better my childhood here was compared to my last one? I loved running around the hallways at home and all, but it wasn't exactly out in the open. Plus, too many things liked to break and get me into trouble.

Oh, sure, I might not have gotten the chance to make any friends yet, but at least I was still hyping about each park visit. Some things were still fun enough without a companion. Plus, recently, I got to run wild without adult supervision because my mom went back to doing the job she used to do before she got knocked up.

…Although, considering the dreamy looks my mom and dad still exchanged whenever they saw each other, _knocked up_ might not be the most accurate way to phrase it. Hehe.

Speaking of a certain, pink-haired fashionista, Mom pulled out a sleek, white device out of her stylish jacket's pocket, activated it, and checked the time on the semi-transparent touchscreen. Then she scrolled down to view a message or a reminder, gave a short nod to herself, shut the thing, and shoved it back inside. She then knelt down to my face level with a smile.

"Mallow, sweetie, I can't stay with you the whole day today. You already understand why, don't you?"

I blinked and nodded slowly, half my mind already thinking of what chaos and terror I could get into today while the remaining half struggling to keep myself from running off and doing exactly that. It was a miracle I could even manage an answer.

"Mommy has a fun job to do." And that there wasn't any babysitter willing to look after me this time because thanks to me, the last one was so traumatized she refused to babysit anyone anymore (I swear, I thought she wasn't serious when she said she was scared of caterpillars!). Also, it wasn't Dad's day off.

I left that part unsaid, though. Even if this wasn't the first time we had this kind of talk, it would sound too aware for a five-year-old. I was pretty sure I was too young to be convicted of murder just because I accidentally made Mother Dearest suffer a heart attack.

"That's right. Mommy gets to play hero again today, and my trusty sidekick"—she gestured to the shiny weapon strapped on her waist, a spear that didn't look like a spear at the moment because it was busy resembling a lopsided belt bag; she never got the final version to look quite right—"gets to make sure I come home just in time for dinner."

Oh, speaking of which!

This was actually yet another strike against the whole Remnant being Future Earth thing I'd had going on. Thanks to my mom's nightly storytelling sessions and my dad's occasional side comments, I learned that a person's career choice didn't just involve boring ol' desk jobs or wailing on dilapidated buildings with a wrecking ball. In _this_ world, growing up to be this seasoned badass that wielded weapon hybrids and slew monsters was a perfectly viable choice and, though a dangerous job, was even encouraged.

Huntsmen and Huntresses were even _celebrities_ sometimes. The way Mom put it as she read to me story after story about the kind of adventures they embarked on, not to mention the way some get featured on TV, you weren't living life if you didn't experience the life of a Huntress. Just thinking about it gave me an adrenaline rush.

You got to do missions. You got to slay _monsters._ Be a hero! Be _everyone_ _'s_ hero! And considering the amount of sick moves, superpowers, and hack-and-slashing involved, I could see myself doing the same thing someday.

Come on. _Superpowers_.

"And you'll tell me all about it when you get back?" I asked hopefully. Even if there wasn't always any action, Mom still tended to end up in crazy situations. Even during those days when she basically just patrolled around the city with the cops, always on the lookout for a criminal.

She ruffled my hair in response and grinned wickedly. "Every sordid detail."

And that was that.

After promising that either she or Dad will fetch me later, depending who finished work earlier, she was off, leaving me to fend for myself in the great playground jungle.

I turned away from her retreating back and stared at the excitement before me. I felt my heart rate increase and my stomach do funny flips.

To a normal five-year-old, this kind of scenario would have been piss-your-pants scary. Just think: you were young, you knew little, you were left to the mercy of the kids higher up in the food chain, and you could easily be kidnapped by the next friendly person whom you thought had a crapton of candy waiting for you in their car. The person who'd just left you was your only safety net. And worst of all, you were left _alone_. What wasn't traumatizing about that?

To _me_ , though, there was nothing scary at all. In fact, this presented an opportunity to run free again. No limits, no obstacles, no nothing. The thought was even enough to send me humming to the tune of _Defying Gravity_ and literally skipping towards the playground.

For once in my life, there wasn't an aunt and uncle to drag me away, kicking and screaming, just because I wanted to get away from them a little bit and have some fun. Yes! There were no mutterings of how I was wasting my time playing when I should be doing more sensible things. And the cherry on top? There was nothing here that would make me feel ashamed of myself for doing what kids were meant to do. I was in for another time of my life.

I took a moment to take in my surroundings and consider which I should go to first. The swings seemed like a neat way to start things, especially when I could swing as hard as I possibly could and leap off the seat like a bird leaving a nest, but then the seat was too high and without someone to do the initial push, the most productive thing I'd accomplish was clambering up there and aimlessly swinging my legs in the hopes that the thing would get the message and fling me, hard.

There was also the sandbox, but it wasn't vacant. And after getting a few dirty looks from some lingering adults and some other kids for having attempted to just come near, I wasn't going to be welcome there. I did feel tempted to go there anyway and ignore the naysayers, though. If anything, I'd get a sick satisfaction from infuriating them further—but I was feeling generous, so I didn't.

 _Consider yourselves lucky I decided against gracing you all with my presence_ , I thought. _Jerks._

I also considered the seesaw, which wouldn't be _so_ bad compared to others. But without someone willing to sit on the other side, I might as well ask an imaginary friend to do exactly that (will you, Pooky Bear? No?) and still end up sitting there and waiting for something to happen. I therefore concluded that was out of the running.

There was also the merry-go-round, though! Except that the last time I indulged, I might have gotten too green in the face because I spun the thing too fast. I didn't really know what came over me when I believed I'd somehow, miraculously, go forward or backward in time if I did it quickly enough. The phantom sensation of regretfully upchucking that delicious ham sandwich still clung to me to this day.

So what option did that leave me? The jungle gym? Ooh, maybe even that weird training area over there with the straw dummies—

"Hey! Give that back!"

My fox ears twitched from the sound. Huh, for a moment there I could've sworn I heard som—

"Nuh-uh! This is ours now, so get lost!"

Oh. I wasn't imagining things. In fact, one of the voices sounded annoyingly familiar… I began locating where the source was. Somewhere… over the… oh! There. I looked towards the empty space between the swing set and the sandbox.

Well, that is, if it weren't for the kids currently occupying it, it _would_ have been been an empty space. Currently, the ankle-biters resembled sharks ready to chow down their latest victim. In this case, the victim being a scrawny-looking, blond-haired boy my age, with half-scared and half-angry blue eyes that still promised death and destruction the moment he got back what the kids were keeping away from his reach: a plastic toy sword. It looked similar to the one I had at home, actually.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was on his way to hit those straw dummies with reckless abandon but, alas, had the terrible misfortune of catching the bullies' attention. That poor, poor soul.

As I watched the kids continually pass around the sword while Blondie made several futile attempts snatching it in the air or grabbing it before it reached the next person's grubby hands, I couldn't help but wonder if I should be doing something to fix that. Anything.

On one hand, the poor kid was getting closer and closer to spilling frustrated tears the more he was tormented. It reminded me too strongly of my not-so-fond times in my old life when I had absolutely no one to help me. Having a non-consensual haircut, getting tossed into the dumpster, even getting pushed into an anthill once… I had to get myself out of those situations because even the supposedly authority figures decided I wasn't worth the effort. And that sucked. A lot.

Ergo, this kid neededhelp. My help.

On the other hand, I wasn't being bullied for once. The worst I'd gotten today were dirty looks; no direct confrontations. They were negative gestures born out of close-mindedness, but they were negative all the same and I wasn't in the mood to deal with that today. Plus, I'd hate to say it, but not being in the spotlight for once was like taking a big, fat breather.

 _For once_ , I wasn't singled out for being a "dumb, filthy animal" just because I was born with animal parts. The longer this kid distracted them, the more fun I could be making before their stares of doom inevitably settled on me again.

To be a jerk or not be a jerk…

To be a jerk or _not_ be a jerk…

"Come onnnn, stop being mean—ow!"

…

You know what? If my conscience was a tangible creature, it would be hitting me in the head with an umbrella right now. It would be telling me to pay it forward, have a heart, do a good deed. I might be mischievous and a self-proclaimed prankster, but _I was not a jerk_.

Taking one deep, steadying breath, I readied myself against all tragic conclusions resulting from this remarkable self-sacrifice and marched forward.

The things I did for a (mostly) clean conscience.

They were right in the middle of passing the toy around the moment I was near enough. Nobody paid me attention. I shoved the nearest brat aside and caught the sword as it landed towards me. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I fumbled a bit at the end and barely had an intact dignity by the time my grip on the toy was sure and steady, but nonetheless, I caught the sword.

For those first few moments, the kids were too surprised to make a move. After all, who would even have the gall to interrupt? I did, apparently. I shot each of them a dull, uninterested glance before moving on and silently handing the toy to the boy. Blondie's jaw threatened to hit the ground and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he wordlessly gripped the thing. He even stared at my fox ears for a second. I decided to send him a reassuring grin anyway.

Unfortunately, my moment of heroism could only last for so long.

Because the next thing I knew, I was feeling my hair tugged back. Sharply. I lost my balance, my vision tilted, and by the time my brain managed to catch up with the present, I realized I was sprawled on the ground. My hands stung from having caught my fall; I was pretty sure they were scratched and bleeding. I could also see one end of my mom's carefully-tied ribbon dangling messily in my periphery.

I winced. Oh, crap.

Mom was _so_ going to rip me a new one for this.

…Oh, and so were the bullies.

"Why'd you have to ruin the fun, huh? Stupid faunus." Annoying Brat Number 1 said. He was the smallest of the group of three, with the squeakiest voice to boot. Somehow, he seemed to think he was the bravest and biggest of them all. Oh, the irony…

I opened my mouth to say that they were already doing a good job of doing that themselves, but I was cut short after I felt one of my fox ears twisted and pulled. My vision flashed red. I couldn't help but cry out from the surprise and the pain. My ears were sensitive, dammit!

"Yeah!" Annoying Brat Number 2 said. Despite feeling my eyes burn from the onset of tears, I managed to look up at the perpetrator of the heinous crime and shot a death glare. This time it was a girl, but with the way her face looked, she might as well be a faunus herself. Hers reminded me of a pug. "Daddy says animals like you should be kept out of the playground."

"Do you always copy what your daddy says?" I gritted out. That only made the girl pinch—and pull—my ear harder. "Okay, so you do."

"Hey, I've got an idea." It was the kid I'd shoved aside earlier. He didn't look too pleased and I could see the murder in his eyes. Seriously, how the adults could barely take their children seriously was astounding—the little bastards could be serial killers if left unsupervised. "Let's dig a hole in the sandbox and bury her there!"

…Um.

I glanced at the aforementioned place. The kids who threw me dirty looks earlier were still there; I was pretty sure that they wouldn't hesitate digging for the bullies if it meant watching a faunus girl get covered by sand. Trying not to blame them because they didn't know any better was actually a challenge. And, while I've managed to dig a hole deep enough once—with the wrong end of a shovel, no less!—to find that the sandbox was only, like, one foot deep, I didn't like getting sand on my hair. Feeling all that grit… oh, the horror.

A distraction, I decided. I needed a distraction so I could cut and run. If these munchkins looked the other way long enough, I might even be able to drag Blondie with me and hide somewhere until these bullies' parents came for them. Of all days I chose not to make preparations against them—

"Hey, I think I see a Grimm over there!" Blondie said, pointing at a spot behind the bullies. "It looks really big!"

The Grimm? The monsters Mom talked about during Story Night and were always killed by the Huntsman (or the Huntress) in the story? Big, black, and ferocious? And I was going to see one in _person_? I couldn't help but take a look, too, just as the bullies… did…

Someone please cast me off to the pits of hell. I did _not_ just fall for the oldest trick in the boo—

I was pulled to my feet by the kid before I could finish that thought. "Run!" he said to me and skedaddled, taking me along with him. He didn't let go of my hand until I was speeding alongside him down the path.

So, we ran.

We ran, and ran, and ran, as fast as our little legs could take us. I was actually surprised to realize that my new body was more athletic than my old one. We went through different twists and turns, hid behind trees, and even tossed ourselves behind a bush and kept as quiet as we could while the three stooges passed by us. We might have even held our breaths when they paused to ask each other where we could have possibly run off to.

"They must've gone back to the playground!"

"That's stupid, why would anyone do that?"

"'Cause they think we won't go back there… 'cause of the Grimm?"

"I didn't even _see_ one. They were joking!"

And that was when my mind became my favorite person in the world because it suddenly hatched a plan.

The gears in my head suddenly spun wildly. Why did I not think of doing this before? It was so simple, yet so ingenious. And considering they've fallen for my dumber tricks before, just like that rabies thing… I could definitely pull this off.

See, the best thing about kids was that their imaginations ran wild. While it would take a lot of effort to make an adult actually check out whether there was a monster in the closet, all I needed to do with a kid was talk about monsters a bit and suddenly point towards the bed and look scared. I could make a sock come off as a snake just because it looked like one in the dark.

Blondie beside me wasn't sure if he liked the now-sinister look on my face or not. I shot him an equally sinister smile and put a conspiratorial finger in front of my lips.

I turned my attention back to my soon-to-be victims. Inwardly apologizing to my mom for the travesty I was about to commit, I completely pulled the white ribbon off of my hair, undid the braids, and messed it up as hard as I could while making sure not to disturb our leafy hiding place.

I then cautiously peeped from the side—they were still there. I nodded to myself; I felt like I looked wild enough. _Then_ I disturbed our leafy hiding place.

"What was that?" One of them asked.

"Go check! It could be them."

"No, you do it! What if there _was_ a Grimm nearby?" That last part came out as a scared whisper, and I inwardly pumped a fist.

"Then I'm not checking at all!"

They were unsettled. Man, Boy Wonder beside me really did me a solid! I bit back a snicker and proceeded to phase two. Throat, you're up for some nasty stuff, but this was a sacrifice for the greater good. All good things came at a cost, etcetera, etcetera. Besides, since they kept insisting I was an animal…

Might as well act like one. Just this once.

I tried to make my best Grimm impression and growled. I probably sounded like a strangled cat to a smarter person, but to these kids, who probably hadn't heard what a Grimm sounded like either, it was enough to make their minds run amok.

"What was that?"

"Dunno. But it can't be a Grimm. There's lotsa Huntsmen here."

Ah, darn, that wasn't good. Apparently, they were smarter than I gave them credit for. I growled again, this time, doing it harder and deeper. It helped that a bit of frustration was seeping into the act. I even shook the bush again for good measure. Although… I miiiiight have had to bite down a cough. It really was harsh on the throat.

"S-someone go look over there!"

"You do it—you're the bravest!"

"No, you are!"

"You are."

" _Boys_." An eye roll. "I'll do it."

Not that Pug-face ever got to.

Because just as I heard her take a step forward, I flattened my ears, leaped out of the bush, and turned my growl into a full-fledged roar. All the while looking like a wild animal ready to pounce at its latest victim. As it turned out, there _was_ a reason why I practiced doing jumpscares whenever I was bored at home.

They screamed. They turned. They _ran_. They didn't even bother spending a second to recover and realize that it was just me. They made sure to separate themselves from this place as hard and as fast as they could, and one was even calling for his parents. It took only a minute before the sounds of their frightened footsteps and voices completely faded.

Hah, I loved it when a plan was successful. Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all night.

I grinned and patted my hair down the best I could. Unfortunately, there was no hope in salvaging the poor state my clothes ended up with. The dress was completely smudged with mud and dirt, my once-shiny shoes were scratched and dull, and my stockings had a tear or two from the leaping I did earlier. At this point, I had more reason to fear my own parent. My mom was definitely going to murder me; this was _not_ a cheap attire.

I did have fun, though. Gosh, this was the funnest I'd had in _years._

"Are they really gone?" The kid behind me suddenly asked.

I blinked in surprise, fully expecting him to have run off at this point. Kids usually did when something stopped gripping their attention. Plus, the danger was gone. He could go back to swinging at those straw dummies like he planned to earlier. Yet, here he was.

"Yup," I said, turning to him. I couldn't help being smug as I said, "We showed 'em."

"We sure did!" He smiled brightly. He then bent down to pick up the toy sword he'd dropped down when we hid earlier and stuffed it back into its toy sheath. Upon closer inspection, the thing was definitely something I owned, too. I knew it even came with a shield, which was probably overdoing it as a toy set, but hey, gotta go for authenticity. I… might have broken a vase or two with it before it was confiscated until further notice. "You were awesome, though."

"No." I shook my head and gestured to him. Flattering as that was, he deserved the credit. "You were."

Apparently, he didn't think so. "No, _you were_."

"You fooled them and we got to run."

"But you scared them and _made_ them run."

Drat, an impasse. We ended up staring at each other, silently daring to insist the other was cooler. The incredulity of the situation was not lost upon me. Me, arguing with a kid about who was better? Really?

I shook my head again and shrugged. "You know what, let's just both be awesome."

It was cute how he actually considered the idea—bowed head, crossed arms, and all—before he finally decided that it was the bestest one ever.

"Yeah, that works!" He bobbed his head up and down. "I'm Jaune. What's your name?"

I was caught so surprised by his eagerness to befriend me that I nearly didn't answer. I nearly forgot that kids didn't really talk like the way older, more mature people did. They didn't hesitate leaping from one topic to another. In this case, from who was being awesome to who, _exactly_ , was being awesome.

"Mallow." Then, deciding that was hardly enough, "Charmed."

With the way his brows furrowed, he looked like he was committing the name to memory. One Mississippi… two Mississippi… Five seconds later, he said, "So… you wanna play sword fighting with me?"

"Huh?" I blinked again. Surely I just imagined that; I stared at him. The expectant look in his face told me I didn't. I showed him my empty hands in response. "I don't have anything to play with, though."

"That's okay! You can grab a stick and pretend it's a sword."

This time I really stared at him. He didn't even hesitate.

Usually, me saying no was enough to send a kid—if they so dared to ask me—bothering someone else. But Jaune here, he still stayed and _insisted_ I play with him. The fifteen-year-old in me was pretty amused to suddenly find herself demoted to being a kid's playmate. On the other hand, the five-year-old I currently was thought this might have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Someone wanted to play with _me_. Best day ever? Best day ever.

How could I even say no at this point?

My face split into a happy smile. "Okay!"

"Great! Race you to the training place!"

I guess you can say that was how our friendship was born. Jaune and Mallow, the new dynamic duo and maybe the unlikeliest of pairings. Then again, we were both kind of losers in this playground, so maybe it wasn't that unlikely.

Still, having a new friend after all these years felt good. It was like getting something I didn't know I needed. Heck, I didn't realize how lonely it was to just be by myself until I remembered what it was like to have someone that wasn't family. The best part was that he didn't even care I was a faunus.

Maybe Remnant wasn't such a bad world, after all.

* * *

A/N: _Okaaaay, I most certainly hope the length made the wait for it. So in this chapter, we learn a bit more about Mallow, and at the end, she makes a friend. Man, lots of potential here - I'm still not that great at writing stuff, so I hope I did well, overall._

 _Just to put it out there, though (and mostly because this question will come up eventually), I don't have any pairings in mind whatsoever. Actually, that's not really a priority of mine. What happens will happen, and all that~_

 _Just like before, please don't hesitate to leave a review, a fave, or a follow. Thank you!_


	3. In Which a Fox Attends School (Again)

**Chapter Three**

The sky above had already shifted to the color of a bruised orange, but either of my parents had yet to arrive and drag me home.

I let out a big, fat sigh as I waited by the park bench. Wherever those lovebirds were, they sure were taking their sweet time. The boredom was starting to creep in and be the noticeable jerk that it was. Fooling around the playground wasn't a fun way to pass the time when the place resembled a ghost town.

That's right. A ghost town. At this point in time, I'd be stupid to believe that I wasn't one of the few remaining people hanging around Maple Park. Jaune used to be in the running, but after his parents (and seven sisters) came to fetch him, he'd long since gone home with promises that he'll be back here next-next week ("Mom says we're usually here every other Saturday!"). The other kids and their families had moved on, some tossing my disheveled state odd looks when they passed by, and even the _birds_ had flown back to their nests to rest for the day. Hey, bats, where you at?

Soon, this place was going to be bathed in darkness and moonlight. While my faunus-enhanced night vision meant that I'd be laughing at the dark instead of the other way around…

I was going to be completely left alone in it.

I grimaced slightly at the thought. Wow, putting it that way made it sound like I was melting like the Wicked Witch of the West when in actuality I was just fine and ready to tear Dorothy a new one.

Really, I was being stupid. Again. Was I not a fifteen-year-old deep inside? Not only would I be able to make it home without getting lost, though hopefully not maimed along the way by child predators, I would also not be reduced to tears just because I was never fetched by Mom or Dad like they promised and proceed to think of them as traitors. I loved and appreciated them and the things they did for me, but I was still independent enough not to rely on them too much.

…At least, I hoped I still was. My current track record was making things extra murky in that department. Especially when I felt my insides start to twist more and more uncomfortably as time continued passing by. Ah, anxiety, I never missed thee. Now I understood why kids my age cried like there's no tomorrow when their parents left them for even just five minutes.

 _Where the heck are they?_

The twinkling stars were now starting to be more and more visible in the sky. It was a nice view, almost storybook. It wouldn't be long before the weird-looking moon finally showed up, too, all in its fragmented glory. Then the crickets would be playing their nighttime symphony, with all other nocturnal creatures joining in on the fun. That is, before they all got scattered away by the creatures that lurked in the darkest of the night with sharp fangs, red eyes, and even sharper claws…

I stopped that line of thinking before I could really scare myself. I then decided that I was definitely not going to stay here a moment longer. Nope, I wasn't about to let my heart rate increase past its current number. Shaking my head to myself, I slid off of the bench and mentally prepared myself for the dangerous trek that was the pathway towards home.

Of course, by some cosmic coincidence, Dad arrived just as I was about to make one confident step forward.

Domino Adel was practically the polar opposite of my mom. He was quieter and more serious whereas Mom was noisy and rambunctious. Mom stood out; Dad was content to just be _there_. Plus, between the two, people were more likely to go red in the face trying to make conversation with him than they would with my mom. Surprisingly, being a faunus had nothing to do with it. Or, well, his being in the Vale Police Department. Something about Dad just made him unapproachable to some level, y'know?

…Good thing he was a huge softie when it came to his only daughter!

He approached me with that soft smile on his face that made me know, exactly, how he made Mom fall in love with him head over heels. Darn it, heart, be _still._

Well, okay, it also helped that Dad looked like a handsome prince with his lean build, dark hair and deep blue eyes that I luckily inherited, but still. He would've totally been a catch if the un-faunus portion of the population didn't notice his fox tail first. But then that just made me question _why_ he hadn't been snagged by some faunus girl before Mom could.

Probably because Mom was a terror to anyone who set their eyes on _her_ prize… stop. _Stop._ Getting into one of my mental tangents was not on tonight's agenda.

Acting like I hadn't just been about to head off on my own, I shook myself out of my stupor and gave him a wide grin. I yelled "Dad!" and ran over to him, then settled with hugging his leg because that was the only thing I could reach. Dad's smile grew several degrees warmer as he looked down at me, moving to give me the dreaded head pat… and paused.

Yikes.

The way he was giving me a once-over perfectly explained what caught his attention. Poorly-tamed hair, smudged clothes, scratched shoes, maybe even a purpling bruise from when I'd caught my fall—my hands still stung, by the way. Then again, it wasn't like I was hiding it—I wore it like a badge of honor. I might've been the playground bullies' favorite, but hah! I wasn't about to let them _win_.

He raised his eyebrows in question as I quickly detached myself and took several light steps back, clasping my hands behind me. I've seen how some people melted for the innocent girl look, so I'd figured the same would go for me. Knowing the reputation I've built up for myself, though… this was probably an exercise in depressing futility.

And it was. Dad's eyebrows merely raised several centimeters higher.

A raise of hands to those surprised. None? I thought so.

"Bullies got me," I said like I was describing the color of a flower. The way my lips then stretched into a mischievous smile, though, made it seem like said flower was suddenly used for sinister reasons. Which it kind of was. "But I scared them in the end. You should've seen how they ran! I was like, _'Boo!'_ and then they were all, _'Ahhhh!'_ "

A smile flickered for a brief moment on Dad's face as he imagined how _that_ went. But then he must've gone back to the bullying portion of my grand retelling because his concerned frown came back in full force.

"They bullied you. Again."

Uh-oh. I knew what expression flashed across his face as I nodded in response. It was a strange mix of fury, pity, and guilt, always there whenever he caught me with skinned knees, bruises, or forcibly positive attitudes (not that I knew how he was even able to tell; parents had this weird sixth sense about their kids). I also caught the way his eyes glanced at my fox ears for a split second.

A different part of me wanted to reassure him that, _hey, Dad, I was fine, no need to fuss over me, I don_ _'t get mad when I'm bullied, I get even_ with a matching hug and a wet kiss on the cheek. But since I was a kid and advanced vocabularies would freak just about anyone out… plus the fact that I hated how they seemed more affected by all the blind dislike directed towards me than _I_ was…

A topic shift was in order.

"And this other kid—I saved him from them at first. But then, tadaaa! He saved me after," I said with matching hand gestures. "But he's gone home now. His name is Jaune. And he's my new friend!"

"A friend? Is that so?"

Random thought: sometimes, it was almost scary—too scary—how convincingly child-like I sounded whenever I talked. Was that because of the way my current brain functioned or was it because at some point during my new life I thought, screw it, I'll speak in whatever way felt natural? Maybe I was a lot better at this game of deception than I gave myself credit for.

Still, mission accomplished.

"Yup, and he didn't even look at my ears in that funny way the other kids did."

"And how did _you_ feel about that? The kids treating you differently just because you had those ears?"

Okay, mission accomplished _somewhat_.

As I stared and blinked at him, the feeling of frustration bubbled briefly inside me—I failed to not think about how things usually were, whenever I wasn't playing with the neighborhood faunus kids and spending time in the more public places. Belittled, disregarded, scorned—

 _Damn it, Dad, I can_ _'t believe you dropped that question on your darling daughter just like that_. But I quickly put a lid on it and stretched my lips into a wide, unaffected grin.

If my previous life taught me anything, letting things get under my skin was a one-way ticket to a rather miserable life. I might've gotten the message that the faunus were basically second class citizens—it didn't help that most crimes were perpetuated by them—and it was a daily struggle to make all the close-mindedness in the world go away, but I was a trooper and I'd sooner throw myself to the sharks than give up and let everyone wail on me because there was no point in fighting.

Only losers did that. Me? A loser? Hardly!

"Who cares what a bunch of dumb kids think?"

It was Dad's turn to stare at me. Actually, I felt just a liiiittle bit insulted that he almost didn't believe me. It was easy to read his thoughts: my little girl looked as if she escaped a wild jungle, and yet she was shrugging it all off like a duck in the rain? What impossibility was this?

A faunus named Mallow Adel, that's what.

"That's… good." Silence. Others wouldn't have known what to make of that, but thanks to the handy-dandy father-daughter connection I had with him, I had an idea. His eyes never really twinkled like that unless I was off on a tangent about my daily adventures or achievements.

In this case, he was proud of me for having stayed strong. He still looked worried and, dare I say it, tempted to tear my oppressors a new one, but he was proud of my resilience all the same.

I would be, too—it was the only thing I brought with me from my life before. Well, that, and my _wonderful_ personality.

He reached out to me with an open hand, which I gladly took with mine. Then we started walking home.

"Your mother says she's sorry she couldn't get you, by the way; her mission today was taking longer to finish than expected."

"Oh." Figures. Ah well, if she managed to nab a couple of bad guys today, I'd say her day was well-spent. Her being back later tonight also meant she hadn't taken a mission that required going to the more dangerous parts of the continent—those took _days_. Mostly because there was always a Grimm infestation and a remote town involved. There was always the worry that one day she'd stop coming home for good, but my confidence in her increased by leaps and bounds when she just kept. Coming. Back.

…Albeit with a broken pair of signature sunglasses or two.

"But she'll be back just in time to tuck you into bed," he said in reassurance.

"And read stories to me again?"

He smiled. "And read stories to you again." He paused for a moment, considered something, and then said, "There's also something else she wants to tell you, but… I think I'll talk to her about it first."

I considered asking him about it in my usual, kiddie way, but the way he stared straight ahead with a thoughtful gaze meant that conversation time was over.

* * *

I awoke to find myself in a dark room, tucked underneath a thick blanket.

At first, I wondered if someone knocked me out with a sledgehammer and dragged my unconscious self into a bed. There had to be an explanation why I've gone from walking home with my dad to ending up here. Maybe there was even something sinister involved; how else would this room appear so much like the room I had?

It was uncanny. Shiver me timbers, it was also downright creepy. Because just like _my_ room, the wall to my right was studded with chicken scratch drawings and glow-in-the-dark star stickers. On the left was a comfy-looking window nook where a person could view the streets below and go-people watching. Or if they felt irrationally angry at the world, throw the occasional paper ball and duck out of sight. There was also the night light illuminating the room and, not to forget, the blanket covering me. Thick and heavy and warm, white with equally familiar-looking snowflake patterns—

Waaaaait a minute.

This _was_ my room.

The level of idiocy I could sink to never ceased to amaze. I groaned and muttered something incomprehensible, recalling the events prior to this discovery.

So, let's see… there was Dad and I coming home, walking down the street. We spent the moment in comfortable silence and then… oh! Right. And then there was him fixing me dinner later at home with me happily inhaling them like a gluttonous beast from the pits of hell. A couple hours later, Mom arrived—with a cracked pair of sunglasses, indeed—and showered me with so many apologies, I had to shut her up by turning away, reaching for a hard-bound book in the nearby shelf, waving it around, and simply saying, "Stories, lots of 'em." Her puzzled frown turned into a relieved smile after realizing I didn't hate her; she patted me on the head, tucked me into bed, and sometime after that, things blurred and here I suddenly was.

Huh, I must've fallen asleep.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up, letting my vision adjust to the dark. It happened all too easily that I couldn't help but grin giddily. That _never_ got old. People could say whatever they wanted about a faunus, but being one was pretty darn cool. How else could I make out the details in the room, like that poor drawing I did of Mom and Dad holding my hands and smiling?

Anyway, where was that digital clock… aha, found you!

The glowing cerulean numbers on the wall indicated that it was half past midnight.

…Oh. _Ugh_. Perfect. Now I was going to have to burn three hours tops just to fall asleep again. However shall I resolve this nasty dilem—wait, I heard something.

Fun fact: the first thing I learned upon discovering my extra pair of ears was filtering out the distant noise from the nearby ones. Since my human ears were only capable of hearing nearby sounds while my fox ears could hear someone, ahem, doing the do two blocks across the neighborhood, the mixed noise made for one nasty migraine. Especially if my hearing skills were left untrained. But, thanks to my daily ritual of opening the windows in my room, perching on the nook below it, shutting my eyes, and concentrating on differentiating one noise to another, my hearing was in tip-top shape.

In this case, though, I didn't really have to do a lot to zero in on a rather serious conversation Mom and Dad were having somewhere outside the room. In hindsight, I probably should have left them alone. But, alas, I was one curious fox and muffled sounds were muffled no matter the kind of hearing. I _had_ to listen to this. It might be a matter of life and death.

I slipped out of bed and walked towards the door. Then, quietly, like a burglar sneaking about, I twisted the doorknob open and slightly pulled it back. The hinges didn't creak, thank goodness.

"…And I'm telling you, honey, she's a tough little girl. Sending her off to school isn't going to be a death sentence."

I couldn't help but perk up the moment I realized it was me they were talking about. In the living room. And very late at night.

"Cara, I'm not saying we need to keep Mallow sheltered forever. I'm just saying we should do this in a year or so, when she's more ready."

Ooh, and apparently, they were debating whether I already could handle the world of hell known as school.

"She's more than ready!" Mom said. I could easily imagine Dad hushing her right at that moment because her voice was too loud. "Sorry. But still. She definitely _is_. The brats might have tormented her more often than not and I'd do anything to put their—and their parents'—scrawny hides into place, but has she ever cried about the bullying? Ever?"

Dad paused to consider that. At least, that's what I got from the brief silence.

"Admittedly, never. In fact… I don't think I've ever seen her cry at all," Dad said. "Isn't that a bit strange?"

"Considering how the other kids cry just because their shoelaces were tied the right way? Yeah. Made worse or better by the fact that she occasionally _seems_ to understand a lot more than we think." A shake of the head. "But I don't think that's to her detriment. If anything, that proves she _can_ deal with school."

"And when the bullying takes a turn for the worse?"

I heard Mom sigh. "Domino, I love how you're doing all you can to prevent what happened to you from happening to her, too. But let's face it: she can handle whatever's thrown at her. Remember the last time some kid thought it was a good idea to stick a piece of gum on her hair?" She paused, probably waiting for Dad's answer. Since I didn't hear anything from the man, he must've nodded. "Exactly. She ignored the thing and went straight ahead to hunt for bugs—bugs she later stuffed inside the brat's backpack. Guess who was crying in the end? Hell, guess who'd figured out the kid was deathly afraid of them?"

Ah, my magnum opus. The victorious grin on my face wouldn't go away after remembering that particular moment.

I was four at the time. Young, impressionable… and already getting the sinking feeling that one way or another, bullies were always out to get me. During that fateful day, I was trying to make a magnificent fortress out of sand on the playground. Then this six-year-old beach ball decided it'd be funny to find out if my hair was as pink as his candy.

Long story short, I suddenly had a sticky problem—which wasn't really much of a problem as time went on. I hadn't even been intending to do anything initially. I'd thought, hey, I could just wait for Mom to remove the thing. She was the one who performed miracles in these kind of situations. And scared the holy bejeebus out of the tiny bastards. But after seeing this other kid—probably his sister—show Mr. Round and Proud the caterpillar she'd found and I watched him go ballistic, the temptation was far too great for my weak, weak self to resist.

He never even found out I was the perpetrator in the end. Mom had put two and two together after seeing the gum on my hair, but instead of being punished, I was taken out for some ice cream as a reward. How about them apples.

"I'll admit… she _is_ something. She's a mini-you." I could easily imagine Dad smiling reluctantly and saying that. "But still… what if the kids became the least of our problems? There's still a lot of good people out there, but the bad…"

"Then we pull her out of school, deal with the fuckers who messed with our little girl, and personally teach her everything she needs to know until she's old enough for combat school. Simple," Mom said. "Oh, honey, don't look at me like that—you've seen how on-board she is about the idea of being a Huntress. I'm running out of storybooks to read to her as it is." I couldn't help but let out an awkward chuckle at that. "Besides, after she learns a trick or two, she can go kick her bullies' asses and I'll the proud mother wiping a tear away from her eye."

Ladies and gentlemen, Caramel Adel.

"I—" There was no mistaking the shock in my Dad's voice. Then, after several seconds of letting it sink in, he chuckled. "I swear, your side of the family is… really colorful. Maybe even intense."

"Ha. What can I say? The Schnees up north might be all polished and proper, but us Adels down south are made of sterner stuff. And we dress better." Mom's voice was smug. However, the next thing she said didn't sound so smug. "At least… I think so. When you're just someone adopted into the family, you've got a hell lot of standards to live up to."

There was nothing but thoughtful silence after that. It went on for so long, I considered shutting the door then and leaving them to their business. I mean, I wouldn't want to be mentally scarred for life if my _parents_ ended up taking a turn for the intimate and I was witness to it. Having known already about the birds and the bees after browsing one too many websites in my past life didn't make the whole idea any less nauseating. I could crack all the immature jokes I wanted when it came to _that,_ but I'll stick to hugging and kissing, thanks.

But then Dad spoke. I barely heard it—his voice was quieter this time.

"Is he still not talking to you? Your brother?"

It took Mom a few seconds before she sighed and spoke. "Not a single word."

"Still sour about that argument you two had?"

"That's putting it kindly. Love the guy to bits, but I have a hard time supporting his decisions lately," Mom said. I wished I could learn more, but the woman left it at that. "Anyway, we better get to bed. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

There were only so many ways I could imagine how Dad responded to that, one of them being unsure whether to pursue the topic or abandon it entirely. Turns out, it was the latter.

"Of course."

Conversation time seemed to be over, regardless. Uh-oh. They rose from wherever they'd been sitting, probably the sofa, and the sound of their footsteps grew louder and louder as they made their way towards the room across mine. I shut the door with a quiet enough click before they could catch me awake. Or worse. I was _not_ looking to find out what "worse" was. Not today, anyway.

Of course, by the time I settled back into my bed, my mind refused to stop racing. It had gotten so bad I wondered if I should join the Remnant version of a grand prix. Did Remnant even _have_ racecars?

…Wait, why was I even questioning this when _airships_ were cooler than racecars? I was pretty sure I could even hear the hum of engines somewhere in the sky—

Ahem. Anyway. School. It wouldn't be unexpected that I'd go back to attending it and gaining a rep for myself, what with the whole second life stuff and all, but I guess I'd been enjoying my childhood phase so hard I forgot it was a thing. It didn't help that Mom or Dad had been the ones to teach me how to transform my scribbles into actual letters and had helped me transition from picture books to books with text as large as pictures… not that I had a difficult time with those.

Reading did come easy, and writing—you know what, I take back what I said. Learning to write again with a clumsy hand was pain and suffering like no other. My letter A still looked like a shark ready to bite off someone's foot.

So. Yup. I was going to start school. I'll admit, the thought was enough to send me shivers of the oh-god-what-should-I-expect variety. I felt like I was about to traverse into unfamiliar territory, or if you looked at it in a very weird angle, a field full of land mines.

The playground was one thing. But school? I barely remembered how I did it in my past life.

Would the teachers actually do their jobs even if a couple of their students happened to be a faunus? Would _I_ survive being in school and relearning what I no doubt already knew? What if the boringness of it all could sent me into a coma within a coma? Heck, what if I brought with me the wrong pencil? No, Mallow, you were supposed to bring a number _two_ pencil, not a number one—

Yeah, no. Stop. Just stop before you get an aneurysm, girl.

I let out a sigh and turned to my side, feeling my blanket move with me. I was being ridiculous. It was just school. Granted, it was probably a kindergarten or some kind of primary school depending on how the Remnant educational system worked, but I knew how it ran things… in theory… and I should be alright. I attend, I adapt, and I raise hell. Bulldoze through the academics! Wreck face! Finish the whole thing ready for combat school because my ambition-less but glory-seeking self didn't really know what other options to take. This was not going to be a challenge.

In fact, this was going to be _fun_.

I had to remember that at my very core, I was still Hope Summers. And while Hope Summers kicked the bucket before she could even finish high school, she still managed to get through the school levels before that. In style. And while enduring detentions and constant verbal abuse that would make a social worker go white in terror.

No pressure! I could fool around this time. I'll be passing whatever test they threw at me, after all. Sure, I wasn't the second coming of Albert Einstein by any means, but I wasn't a dumbass either.

Hah, wouldn't that be a sight to see, the faces of all the teachers who thought I was a handful and would never get anywhere, only to end up with the stunning realization that I got top marks for every subject. It was every prankster's fantasy. In fact… I…

I eventually just fell asleep, all anxious thoughts replaced by confident ones.

I was going to be fine.

* * *

I was going to _not_ be fine.

It had been four months since my parents had _The Talk_ with me regarding school. Four months since I had to make the equivalent of a blood pact to behave and not grab attention, and four months since I resigned myself to my fate… while constantly hearing how the two worrywarts made muttered promises of eternal retribution the moment things went south. _Parents_.

During the first several weeks, things were okay. I got enrolled in this fancy private school in the nicer part of town. I wasn't given any special—or not so special—treatment there for being a faunus, mostly because it was a school that catered to both types of children, and I did pretty great in my studies. The nice, purple star of excellence stamped on my hand was a good source of pride... even if it wasn't exactly gotten _legitimately_.

Not with the lessons being something I've learned a lifetime ago, like basic vocabulary and simple math lessons that I already knew—

Wait, since when did I, the brat who once got through freshman year through sneaky ways, consider cheating wrong?

Either my parents were rubbing off on me hard, or I wasn't just different in body, but also in personality due to the more complicated portions of anatomy that I couldn't remember at the moment. You know what? This was one line of thinking worth abandoning. Never mind.

…Anyway, it was just like I said. Everything at first was practically like a storybook, with all the vibrant colors and laughter and everything that would make the most dastardly of villains puke. That would make _me_ puke.

But now, nope. Not so much.

Not with that hag of a teacher that so happened to be last week's addition to the school faculty.

"What did you just say?" Enter Ms. Frost, said teacher who was currently sending me a glare so cold, volcanos all over the world would have simultaneously frozen over.

I didn't really know much about her other than what I've eavesdropped from the other adults so far: that she was having troubles with something, that a relative of hers hired her out of pity, and that a person could easily make a pun out of her last name thanks to her icy demeanor. That last one was from a teacher who tended to joke a lot. Long story.

What I _did_ know was the fact that school would have been a million times better without her. The kids all around me could barely look at her right now. Heck, my faunus brethren even looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation—if they didn't end up wetting themselves first.

Still, because I wasn't a volcano… or a pansy… I simply stared back from my side of the oval table with a faux look of innocence on my face. Nothing pissed a person more than doing the opposite of what they expected to happen. Even if said person doing the pissing off was feeling scared and ballsy at the same time. My heart could burst out of my chest at any point in time now.

"Well?" she asked again, louder this time.

Then again, if I hadn't spoken out of turn, maybe I wouldn't have been in this predicament. Alas, whereas the mind was strong, the body was weak. I couldn't resist butting in when the lady kept spouting side-comments about how the faunus half of the class shouldn't be "hindering their peers."

Ravings of a madwoman, let me tell you. I _had_ to take one for the team; no one was speaking up and just _taking_ everything. That simply wouldn't do.

It wasn't our fault the others (read: human kids _and_ faunus kids, whom the teacher conveniently didn't acknowledge) weren't following the lesson well. If the _kind_ teacher could go through said more thoroughly, then everyone would be learning at the same pace, more or less.

…Okay, thinking back on earlier, I _might_ have also implied that the teacher's teaching method was bad. And then bluntly said so. Of course she wouldn't have taken it well.

But _come on_ , it was the truth! Weren't kids usually brutally honest? She didn't answer our questions and flitted from one tangent to another. The words she wrote on the board was barely legible that you might as well have given a chimpanzee the whiteboard pen and none would notice the difference. Some other kid would have pointed that out sooner or later!

"She's talking to you," one of the kids nearby then whispered, mistaking my silence for nerves. Little did they know…

Ah well. I was already knee-deep in crap. Might as well commit to it like the idiot that I was. Never let it go unsaid that Mallow Adel did not see things through. Although, in hindsight, this kind of approach ultimately led to Hope's death. Stupid pie.

"You're teaching too fast. The other kids couldn't follow the lesson," I repeated. "Aren't teachers supposed to do the opposite?"

Some of my other classmates blinked at the question before they found themselves nodding and mumbling their agreement. It seemed to make more sense to them, the longer they thought about it. For the teacher though, not so much. If the woman's nostrils flared even more, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole nose suddenly detached from her face and ran off.

She looked just about ready to strangle me with the way she was practically squeezing the life out of the pen she held. In fact, she probably would have already if it didn't mean going to prison for assaulting a kid.

"And what makes you think you'd know better?" Each of her words sounded more clipped than the previous one.

Wow, rude.

…Then again, so was I. Touche.

"My mom used to teach me," I said, pushing on like a trooper. Or an even bigger idiot. "She doesn't do it like you do."

"Did she also teach you to talk back to your betters?"

This time, I looked at Ms. Frost straight in the eye. I didn't fight off the challenging—and sly—smile that crept into my face. "Yup, she did."

Cross my heart, Caramel Adel really did. When in my previous life my aunt and uncle shut me down before I could even think of a word to say, in this current one, Mom actually _encouraged_ me to speak up if I noticed that something or someone was wrong. Or in need of a reality check. "Because if you just keep quiet all the time, sweetie," she'd said once, "then you'll never learn to stand up for yourself when the situation demands it."

(She also might have looked peculiar after that, like she was recalling a past memory, but what she said still made sense.)

The teacher looked aghast at my continued impudence and devil-may-care attitude and almost sputtered right then and there. Then she recovered, scowled, and narrowed her eyes.

"So you say." The woman's eyes finally broke contact with mine as they swept over the entire class, nodding to herself seconds later.

A decision was made.

"Alright, class, take out your pencils and notebooks. Thanks to your _special_ classmate Mallow, we're having a quiz on numbers. Counting, adding, and subtracting. Right now."

At first, nobody moved. They thought Ms. Frost wasn't serious. We had yet to go into math equations, after all. Maybe she just forgot we weren't the other students she was teaching and was, in conclusion, being silly. If it happened to us kids, it could also happen to the adults, right?

But then, when it finally sunk in that she _was_ , especially when she stared at all of us expectantly and even raised her eyebrows at us, something stirred in the class and the complaints started coming. Surprise quizzes and maths were the kind of fatal combo that traumatized the unprepared kid. And all of them were unprepared.

Except for moi, for obvious reasons.

"Well, kids," she started saying. Her smug way of regarding me dented _my_ smug way of regarding the sudden turn of events. "Don't take it out on me. Take it out on your kind classmate who didn't know how to show respect."

It suddenly occurred to me what direction she was heading into. And I couldn't help but regard her incredulously.

Really? _That_ _'s_ the game she wanted to play? All because I offered her some teaching tips?

Still, I didn't have to meet anyone's eyes to know that the spotlight now shone nice and bright on me. In fact, the rather oppressive atmosphere I now felt surrounding me was telling enough about what everyone thought of Mallow Adel now.

 _Kids_.

I inwardly sighed in resignation and pulled out my own pencil and notebook, the latter whose covers depicted the picture of a heroine from a cartoon show. Or was it from one of those tournament contestants on TV? Gah, that was another thing I had to get used to on Remnant: new pop culture stuff and the works.

But then said pencil and notebook was suddenly taken away from me. I looked up and saw the teacher holding them. She wagged a finger at me.

"You're not allowed to take the quiz," she said. "I'm sure you're _smart_ enough to understand why."

And it was during that very moment I decided the womn was a witch. _With a B._ But I wasn't about to let _her_ win. If she wanted mind games, she'll definitely be getting them. I met her eyes again and showed exactly how unbothered I was about failing a silly surprise quiz.

"That's okay." And because I absolutely couldn't resist, "I'll just ace the others."

She got contrary to what she was hoping; the way her eyes narrowed again made me inwardly pump a fist in victory. See? That worked. It was always the little things that mattered.

"I'll also be speaking to your mother when she fetches you," she told me with a sense of finality and turned away.

For a few seconds, as the teacher initiated her traumatizing quiz with the rest of the class, I sat there in total silence and considered slumping onto the table to nap through the entire thing.

But then one of my classmates threw a paper ball at me.

And another.

And another.

* * *

"I _cannot_ believe I actually thought that school would be better than the others!" Mom ranted, several hours later.

She'd put up a good fight when my teacher cornered her for a lengthy talk about my earlier transgression, even going so far as to drag in the principal when Ms. High and Mighty couldn't crack through Caramel Adel's formidable defenses. But in the end, despite defending me to the best of her ability ("She's only pointing out what she found wrong! You don't punish children when they're just stating their opinions.") and deflecting every word the teacher threw at her and returning them with cutting ripostes, the teacher won through some miracle or other.

I still didn't know how it ended up that way—I was eavesdropping at the time.

...What? I shouldn't have done that? Well, in my defense, they didn't close the door. If they didn't want eavesdroppers, they should've done so.

Anyway. Point was, the verdict after that was that I either "behave" around said teacher or, in their words, find a different school that I'd fit in better. Which was hilarious, especially when I've seen the other kids throw temper tantrums and break things and got nothing but a reprimand before they were left alone to their own devices. With a juice box. And cookies.

Maybe it was just my bad luck playing out. Or maybe it was just because people didn't bother with the faunus when they kept their heads down. Either way, I got the short end of the stick again, the kids were sure to hate me for getting them into trouble, and now Mom decided to take me out for ice cream in downtown Vale. Apparently, that was how she dealt with stress, both hers and mine.

The shop owner actually knew her by face and name now. He didn't even bother asking what the woman was going to get (strawberry and chocolate, the wombo combo) and simply took Mom's card-like objects that turned out to be Lien, Remnant's currency.

"I've had to go through at least a dozen brochures just to find that school," she continued her rant as I shoved spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. Turns out, the ice cream flavors here were just as great as the ones on Earth... though maybe a lot softer in texture. "What were they thinking, hiring a teacher that didn't put her job first before her prejudices? Stupid. Absolutely stupid. And I have to be this premier huntress that protects the likes of them? Domino's never going to let me live this down. Argh!"

She slammed a fist onto the table and ignored the odd looks the other people enjoying their own dessert sent her way.

"I'm sorry," I decided to say after making sure my own bowl of ice cream wasn't in danger of flying off the table. Mom's bowl had actually jumped a couple centimeters into the air earlier. "I guess I shouldn't have talked at all."

Mom blinked, stared at me, and shook her head. She patted my hand. "No, sweetie, what you did was fine. Don't ever hesitate to speak up when necessary. Remember, we're Adels: we don't stay in the sidelines."

Though admittedly, I wasn't really one to just stay idle by default. Why did you think I got into trouble with people more often than not?

I nodded all the same.

"Okay." And then, as a last thought, I said, "Are you gonna pull me out of that school?"

"Hmm," she drawled out. "That would depend. Do you want to be?"

I looked down on my half-finished ice cream and considered the thought.

"Do combat schools have tests like the one I've been having?"

"They do, sweetie, but it's mostly to measure what you know. They still have these remedial classes for students who need some catching up academically, but the catch is that they'll graduate later than the other kids who don't," Mom explained.

Well, I sure as heck wasn't about to get _delayed_ from all the swash-buckling.

"Okay, then I'll stay. I'm not about to let a stupid teacher win."

Mom regarded me incredulously before shaking her head and chuckling. Whether it was because I was too stubborn to quit or too amusing for having called that teacher stupid, I didn't know.

"Alright, then."

I gave Mom an odd look before shrugging and breaking eye contact. We ate our ice cream in silence then. But several minutes later, like a switch being flipped, she grew serious. "So… you're really bent on taking the path of a Huntress, then?"

What a question.

But then, it wasn't like I knew any other, better alternatives.

The things I've thought of doing with my life back when I was Hope suddenly seemed dull in comparison. Manning cash registers? Serving food? Becoming some kind of "corporate shill," whatever the adults really meant whenever they said that? They sounded too normal under present circumstances.

Here was an opportunity to do things better this time around. I might not find out in my entire lifetime as to why I got reincarnated, but I'd be utterly demented to let things move forward the same way. Plus, I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to at least learn how to defend myself if it turned out I wasn't Huntress material. The memory of the play-fighting I saw from several years ago was still vivid in my mind—I could be doing all those cool stuff, myself, if I kept heading towards that path!

…The Grimm might be a problem though. But since I've still yet to see one in the flesh, they felt a bit more along the likes of the boogeyman hiding in the closet. Or more accurately, like horror stories that I had a weird fascination on.

"Yup."

"...I see."

I blinked at her. For a moment, Mom seemed like she was done with the conversation, having looked away and glancing at the streets outside the window. But then she looked back to me, exhaled, and smiled in a strange, tired way.

"It's not going to be a safe career, kiddo. I think you should realize that now, rather than later," Mom said, and after deciding I was indeed paying her my full attention, continued, "I won't sugarcoat it for you. You _will_ be in danger, you _might_ lose people you love, and you _will_ feel like backing out when the going gets tough. The weapons and the fighting is one hell of a thrill, but it's going to come at the cost of trying to stay alive each and every day.

But despite the uncomfortable way my intestines twisted themselves (or at least, it felt that way), I still found it hard to wrap my head around the concept.

It was like, I _knew_ that ever since Mom started reading those stories to me (how did people _breeze_ through those violent undertones?) and since I caught glimpses of news footage about the next Huntsman to be found dead somewhere nearby, but I just couldn't make myself feel the danger and the horror because so far, life's been safe within the walls of the country-sized city.

"Again, I'm not really sure if you got the message loud and clear. But it's best for you to know now and toy around with the idea instead of stumbling blindly when that time comes."

To be fair, though, she was still right; I'd be stupid to think her wrong. She was the one with more life experience. If anything, her words were sage advice and I should be following them.

On the other hand, what was life without any risks? I've played the dull game in my previous life—I ended up dying anyway. Unless I find the fountain of youth or something, I was still going to die again someday, too. Might as well spend my second lifetime doing something exciting instead of going through the same thing and wondering how things would be if they went differently… and then dying from something as stupid as food poisoning. I'd rather die a fighter this time.

Besides…

Wouldn't it be an interesting turn of events to change from being the person bullied to the person people would be depending their survival on? Total zero to hero moment right there. Man, the look on their faces would be _priceless_!

"I can handle it," I insisted.

"You're sure."

The smarter way would've been to consider this decision some more, probably, but what the heck, the idea sounded so good right now that I just _couldn_ _'t_.

"Mmhm!" I nodded eagerly. I waved my spoon around as I talked some more. "Huntsmen and Huntresses are heroes, aren't they? If I become that hero, then the bullies will stop bullying me."

Okay, that might have sounded much too naive than I'd thought. In reality, people would still find ways to make trouble for other people, if my high school life was of any indication. I know I did to people who deserved it.

But, whether I was pretending to be a kid or not, I wasn't about to let cynicism stay and fester in my brain. Who knows, if I said what I've said often enough, it might end up becoming true. I was willing to take that kind of risk.

Mom reached over to me and patted my head long enough before I tried melting into my seat just to avoid a round two. The woman snickered.

"Fine, then, we'll see if you won't change your mind in the future. Four or five years, give or take. You're the boss," Mom said. She pushed her now-empty bowl of ice cream away from her. "Now, then… come on, if you finish your ice cream fast enough, we might have some time left to buy you some new clothes in the mall. I've seen a bow that might look cute on you."

Oh, the sing-song way she put it made me narrow my eyes at her in suspicion. The last time she put a ribbon on me—other than that one I grudgingly admitted looked great—she tried covering my ears with it because she was curious how it'd look. All it did was muffle the louder sounds I was used to hearing. It was also like wearing handcuffs, only worse.

 _Never again.  
_

Mom clicked her tongue. "A frown looks terrible on you, darling."

We went shopping anyway. And predictably, she managed to manipulate me into agreeing that the ribbon she saw did make me look like someone you'd want to hand a lollipop to. The incident during school earlier was forgotten, and the two of us arrived home in a much better mood.

Sure, just because the day ended in a better note didn't mean that the rest of my school life was going to be just as great. But c'est la vie. All I had to do was keep my eye on the prize (combat school), weather the storm… and maybe see if I could do something about that teacher since I was not about to have her make my life a living hell without returning the generous gesture. Undetected, of course, considering the ultimatum they gave me.

I was up to the challenge. Before I knew it, those four or five years were going to be over.

 _Bring it on_.

* * *

A/N: _Well, that wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped it would be. Couldn't work in a scene that I'd thought of adding. That will probably for next chapter, and then... we'll see. All I hope is that I've written this decently enough to set up something I wanted to happen next._

 _Yeah, I'm not going to rush through her childhood phase. But I'm hoping not to drag it out, either! More like, I'll focus on the more important parts, then do time skips when I finally could. Let that serve as a warning, but I'll try my best not to leave anyone jarred from the time skips. 3_

 _Feel free to review, follow, or add this story as a favorite! It's hard to finish a chapter when I'm juggling gaming and work, but each one is definitely a labor of love and I hope not to disappoint the ones who happen to like this story despite the cringey genre (because let's face it, to some people, it_ is _cringey)_.


	4. This is Gonna Suck

**Chapter Four**

It was absolutely bonkers how being distracted in the minutest of moments was enough to make time skips practically a reality. In one moment, I was this five-year-old who wasn't about to anyone and anything ruin things for her, and suddenly in the next I was a seven-year-old girl ready and eager to get enrolled in a combat academy and snowball from there.

Sure, sure, you could all remind me that I wouldn't even be able to meet the minimum requirements for the admission exam until three or so years had passed. But then, so long as my life continued revolving around schoolwork, handling bullies, pranking a certain teacher, and making scapegoats out of said bullies, just like how things have gone for the past two years, those three or so years would be over before I knew it.

For now, I was glad that time slowed down to a screeching halt. It wouldn't have been in anyone's best interests if I didn't get to enjoy a little bit of playtime with the one kid in city who liked my presence—in our favorite hangout, of course.

Actually, no. I was wrong. Make that our _only_ hangout, considering the circumstances involving large distances, possibly an airship ride, and motion sickness, the latter of which I apparently had in common with the kid. My own personal kryptonite. Nothing like bonding over the fact that a couple minutes of air time was enough to make us feel funny in the tummy, eh?

"So you're really gonna become a huntress like I'm gonna become a huntsman?" Jaune asked. He then proceeded to swing his toy sword at me.

…Did I also mention we were doing pretend sword fights again, mostly because Jaune saw this wicked match on TV and wanted to imagine we were right there on the arena ourselves?

As I brought my own sword up to easily "block" the blow (Jaune was slow, predictable, and stubborn about doing things his way), I wondered whether I should just stop being such a pansy and endure the airship ride I had to take just to do house visits with Jaune. Or, failing that, subtly drop hints to my parents that we should move houses… preferably somewhere that didn't involve uppity almost being on opposite ends of the country-sized city. A trip to the park took hours already, fer gosh's sakes.

But then, ugh, I had to remember that last awful trip I had to take with my parents. It had been the Vytal Festival—a celebration of the different cultures of the world—at the time, and we were heading north to Atlas to participate in the festivities. Yours truly was barely five minutes in the air before she started feeling like she'd committed the hugest mistake since the dawn of time. Despite distracting myself during the trip by folding sheets of paper into airplanes and sending them flying over the edge of the foredeck, my head and stomach continued feeling like they were spun over and over inside a washing machine.

On steroids.

Let's just say I practically owned a bathroom stall by the end of the trip. And that I swore a solemn vow never to shove food into my mouth _before_ an airship ride, ever again. _Ever._

"Yup," I said, shoving down that memory as hard as I could. I didn't even know why I thought of that one first before I so much as acknowledged Jaune's question. What was wrong with my brain? "What about you?"

Jaune snickered as he tried to break the stalemate the two of us ended up with. At first, I regarded him in confusion. Did my dear ol' pal get hit in the head or something? I knew my mind had clouded over for the past few seconds, but I was pretty sure that wasn't long enough for someone to swoop in and bonk the kid in the head. What's so funny?

I didn't have to wonder for long as Jaune then said, "I already said I'll be a huntsman!"

Must not. Palm face.

I felt my cheeks heat up and I promptly wondered what, indeed, was wrong with the squishy pink thing that's protected by my skull. Mallow Adel did _not_ do airheadedness. She'd stomp on that flat and kick it down the drainage.

Of course, with me being me, I didn't acknowledge that mistake and grinned my embarrassment away. Barely. "I knew that! I was just testing you, you dork."

He blinked. "Testing me for what?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yup. Stuff."

"Right… okay," Jaune said. He didn't sound like he believed me, but it hardly mattered anymore as he then pulled back his sword and proceeded to do what would have been an elaborate set of movements in the shoes of a veteran combatant, but in his case, just a lot of wild sword-waving and clumsy steps that made me wonder how Jaune was still standing before me and not being rushed to an infirmary. Even the kids I saw play-fighting here from time to time at least knew how to maintain equilibrium.

Because I already knew how much of a reach Jaune had, I promptly made two steps back and watched the toy swing harmlessly in front of me. I really should stop abusing the fact that I was still something of a fifteen-year-old on the inside, one of these days.

Jaune then lost his footing and dropped down to the ground. Pathetically. I winced and felt my fox ears flatten accordingly.

It was a really good thing that there were no other kids around to witness this. Jaune's stunt was the kind of stuff you could immortalize for being the most epic of failures in history. Still, I didn't really feel sorry for long. Not when there was still one loose end to tie up. So when Jaune started pulling himself up, I started approaching him. Step, step, step, stop. I then raised my blade—Jaune's eyes widened—grinned wickedly, like I was about to commit a heinous crime against humanity, and then…

And then, in an anti-climactic fashion, I gave my friend's shoulder a gentle tap before snickering like I've made the bestest prank in the world.

The look of confusion on the blond's face just then easily resembled the one I had a couple minutes earlier. He'd gone from, what, fearing the unholy wrath he thought I was going to bring down on him and suddenly… nothing? A tap on the shoulder? What sorcery was this?

Then it dawned on him: he lost the game.

"You really should start doing that properly," I decided to say as he shot me a pout that I couldn't take seriously. "Can't you get someone to teach you? That kinda looked painful." And because I couldn't resist, "And stupid."

Said pout turned into a dirty look. Because it came from Jaune, though, it still didn't come off as intended, and the most it did was turn my grin wider.

"It's not stupid, and I don't need a teacher," Jaune insisted. Even for someone who was, if my math was right, just a couple months younger than me, he was being very stubborn. This wasn't the first time we had this kind of kiddie talk. "Anyway, I wanna see how high I can go at the swings. Come on!"

 _So long as none of us jump off the seats this time_ , I thought as the kid shot off like a freshly fired bullet. The last time we both pulled such a daredevil stunt, we'd both gotten ourselves grounded for a month—and that was after getting treated for sprains at the nearest hospital. Shiver me timbers, the way we were completely and utterly chewed out… it was the kind of song that bards wouldn't ever consider singing about in the years to come. We'd basically been told told to stop it because we weren't birds and no amount of swinging was going to send us flying into the air.

"Or to space," Mom had said before I even opened my mouth. "For the last time, Mallow, that space rocket idea you had is nice, but no one's yet to find an actual way to get there. Swinging like that isn't going to result to a miracle either."

 _Not with that attitude_ , I'd wanted to say, but the look on her face had been enough to freeze lakes.

Anyway, minutes later, we found a set of swings unused by any of the other kids in the park. The two of us plopped down, spent some time just sitting there, until minutes later Jaune got bored and decided to make a competition out of something so mundane as a couple minutes of swinging back and forth. Best of three, loser has to buy candy for the winner. I naturally accepted.

So the next thing I knew, we were trying to outswing each other like our lives depended on it. I loved how the air whipped against my face as I swung back and forth. But then I felt the metal frame _wobble_ and threaten to uproot itself from the ground it was planted on. That had put a swift end to things. It didn't help that a random adult saw us and talked our ears off about "playing dangerously," only leaving once Jaune and I muttered our apologies. I made sure to stick a tongue out at the woman's retreating back moments later.

Now, we were just sitting there and waiting for our parents—in Jaune's case, possibly one of his older sisters—to come fetch us. We'd have gone to the other side of the park (where there were more things to pass the time with) if it currently wasn't inhabited by the local bullies. From our location, I could already see a few familiar faces. One of them even pushed a kid into the sandbox.

"So…" Jaune began. "Why do you want to become a huntress?"

My fox ears twitched at the sudden question. I turned to him but didn't immediately answer.

It wasn't that I was suddenly having second thoughts about my own decision to go down that particular path. My eyes were still firmly set on the prize.

It was just that, well, recently, I've found it more interesting to hear what people have to say when it comes to what they wanted to do with their own futures. Some had wanted to become heroes of legend, the savior that protected the innocent from evil. Some were following in their parents' footsteps like the dutiful children that they were. Some had a fighting cause (Faunus equality! Eliminate all Grimm! Make Remnant a better world for future generations!), and some just did it so they could support their families and improve their lives because being a huntsman sensibly paid well (you were risking your neck, after all).

There were all sorts of rhymes and reasons that my own motivations suddenly felt bland and selfish… maybe even spiteful… in comparison.

…And maybe I still couldn't state my own reasons with a hundred percent conviction. But I wasn't ever going to admit that out loud. Shhh.

"Why do you?" I decided on asking.

"Because I've always wanted to become a great warrior like my dad, my granddad, and even my granddad's dad," Jaune answered. He didn't even hesitate. But then he frowned. "But nobody's taking me seriously. I know I can do it!"

Adults rarely took their children seriously, that's for sure. Even back when I used to be fifteen, I was more likely to win a lottery than have someone giving me the time of the day. Just remembering how they all nodded at me before turning away and acknowledging my words no further made me want to clench a fist. It's improved a lot since my living here in Remnant, all thanks to my parents who understood the value of listening to their only child, but there were still those times when Mom or Dad seemed to doubt something I was absolutely sure of.

"It does suck when the grownups do that," I said. Then I grinned at him and raised a fist in the air. "But then that just means you can prove them wrong! Maybe you can get into a combat school like I'm gonna be in a couple of years."

"I… I dunno."

That wasn't the response I was expecting from the kid who owned a set of toy weapons. I tilted my head. "Oh, come on. You dunno?"

"My parents looked at me funny when I said that to them," Jaune said, absently making a circle on the dirt with the toe of his shoe. "Then they said they'll see what happens and didn't talk about it anymore. What does that even mean?"

 _A lot of things,_ I thought as I looked away and watched two lovestruck—and definitely hormonal teenagers—walk down the path.

For starters, Jaune's parents could be referring to money troubles. Eight children sounded like absolute hell to support financially. And if the Arc family somehow managed to earn money just fine, there were also safety hazards to consider; hunting Grimm and being safe was oil and water. But then, while this wasn't my favorite assumption, maybe Mr. and Mrs. Arc just saw something… aptitude-related about Jaune when it came to anything involving combat. Never mind if the Arc family came from a long line of warriors, if the tales were true.

But since I wasn't a mind-reader, though I wish I was since the money I could be making from that would be _insane_ , I couldn't give any decent answers.

"I don't know, either."

Jaune made a small shrug. "I guess if nobody can help me, I'll just help myself and prove I never needed it in the first place. Great heroes could do stuff all by themselves."

Now it was _my_ turn to look at him funny. I even wanted to correct him that uh, no, heroes who refused help when available were exactly the kind of poor bastards who died first and often in a gruesome way, but I doubted that was something a kid would have wanted to hear. Plus, I didn't exactly want any lone wolves suddenly bearing down on me because they insisted they were quite capable of handling things all by themselves, _thank you very much_. You bastards should feel lucky I was so considerate.

"I'll help you," I said instead. Jaune's eyes widened at me, as if I'd just spoken Latin in perfect fluency (does Latin even exist here?).

"What?"

"I'll. Help. You," I repeated, rolling my eyes. I then grinned at him. "If I get into a combat school first, I'll pass on what I know to you. You're quite welcome!"

"But—"

"But _nothing_ ," I cut him off. I stuck a tongue out at him. "Don't be a dork, Jaune. If you can't get into a combat school, I will. I'll learn stuff for you and myself and pass them like a note in class! It's a good plan." I jerked a thumb at myself. "It's also mine."

"Really?"

" _Really._ Jaune, just 'cause you're the only other boy in the family doesn't mean you have to step up or something and do things yourself. Some things are meant to be worked on together."

We separated ways an hour later, with me repeating my promise to Jaune because when my mind was made up, it was _made up, deal with it_. The kid still looked doubtful as he walked away with his dad, but I was certain he'll come around. I've planted the seed in his mind; all that needed to happen now was for the darn thing to sprout and convince him that this was a very viable option and he'd be dumb not to take it.

It was a good plan, really. Jaune got to learn what he needed, I'd get to learn what _I_ needed, and we both would be moving forward without the other getting left behind. I know I'd want someone to keep pace with me in this world as I discovered more and more new things. Makes it all feel less lonely, y'know?

Of course, just when I was confident about how things were going to play out in the long run, life decided to break the monotony.

* * *

It was a Friday when Mom suddenly called me downstairs. I'd just finished stuffing into my backpack all my school essentials (pencils, notebooks, _itching powder_ ), and I'll admit, I might have gotten too distracted with the task that her voice shocked me. I nearly sent said backpack flying. Outside the window. Not one of my finer moments there, let me tell you.

I tried not to panic. Mom never really called me like that unless I was in huge trouble. If she'd found out what I was planning on doing today at school, suffice to say this was going to be a mission failed.

Reminiscent of a prisoner awaiting execution, I stared at the shut door, waiting for it to be kicked open like the FBI would during a drug raid. Now I'll never be able to watch one of the bullies in school scratch himself raw—and I'll never be able to make a lame pun about having the _itch_ to do something.

But then nothing happened. I was still staring at the door, but I slowly relaxed. It then occurred to me that there didn't seem to be any commanding tone to Mom's voice.

Ugh, right. How could I forget? She stopped shouting like that years ago.

Anyway, since I've also been hearing some other voices talking for the past half hour (how did I forget this too?), there was only one assumption: whatever it was Mom needed me for, it involved meeting a couple of people before we left the house.

Visitors or no, it still a school day. And while I tended to break a rule or two when I was left to my own devices in the classroom, neither of us wanted to put a stain on my perfect attendance record. Don't even ask how that made sense, especially when I was willing to go to detention for the greater good.

I shrugged to myself and made my way downstairs. As I reached the landing and made a turn towards the hallway leading to the front door and the living room, yours truly found that she was right on the money.

"Hi!" I said, focusing on the two visitors who were standing by the door. From the way they were all positioned, Mom was going to see them off, just as soon as I got acquainted with the visitors and them with me. It definitely looked that way when I noticed how Mom had nodded in confirmation towards the fair-skinned, brown-haired man wearing a surprisingly casual attire. The little girl that resembled him was looking at me in a friendly way, never breaking eye contact the moment my light blue eyes met her dark ones.

…Wait, I've seen the two of them before. During those family get-togethers that rarely ended well due to the chilly tension in the air.

"She's quite the sweet little girl," the man—my _uncle_ _—_ then said to Mom, who rolled her eyes. But she was smiling, so that definitely didn't mean I was suddenly ranked low on her favorite list of children.

Oh, wait, there was only one child on the list.

"Only around visitors." Mom said. "Anyway, yeah, if you'll remember, that's Mallow. Sweetie," this time, her voice was directed at me, "you haven't forgotten who these people are, right?"

The only way I would was if someone plucked my brain out of my skull, mixed it on a blender, and stuffed it right back in.

For starters, that man over there? That was Robin Adel, also known as the brother Mom was apparently on speaking terms again. He was rich, though not as famous (or _in_ famous) as the Schnees up north in Atlas, but still worth a damn for being the owner of the largest mall in Vale, _Stellae Galleria_ , located in the heart of the city's commercial district. It was something he'd inherited from his father (rest his soul) and brought to new levels of renown. When the mall used to be this casual hangout place for certain people a generation ago, now it was practically a shopping wonderland for all.

(Or so Mom says, anyway. She'd know what qualified as a shopping wonderland.)

Next, there was my cousin, Coco Adel. Brimming with self-assurance at the age of seven, older than me by roughly three months, and already possessing an aptitude for a career as huntress, she was someone who was definitely off to a good start in the reputation-making department. She also dressed well.

Anyway, I didn't really know my cousin beyond what my parents told me. Thanks to us being in different social circles and thanks our parents being distant with each other, until now anyway, the brown-haired girl seemed more of a stranger to me. A friendly one, but a stranger nonetheless. A part of me wondered if we'd get along well, if given the chance to bond. It wasn't hard to imagine a scenario where I ran up to her doorstep, took her hand, and said, "Let's go bowling, Cousin!"

Ignore that last part.

"Yup. Sure do." I nodded, brightening my smile to an additional hundred watts. I also did that fox ear-twitching thing that my parents somehow found cute... Which also made me feel like a total idiot at the same time, but at least I left a more positive impression. I hoped.

Uncle Robin gave me one nod and a small, but genuine smile in response before he returned his attention to my mom.

"Anyway," he said, "we won't keep you any longer. I know you two still have a lot to attend to."

"That's an understatement."

For a moment, my uncle didn't seem to know how to react. He must've still been walking on egg shells when it came to Mom, even if the two of them called a truce behind the scenes. But after my mom's smile remained unchanged and there wasn't a hint of vitriol seeping out of her, he relaxed.

"Right, of course," he said. Then he cleared his throat. "Still, Cara, before we go… I just wanted to say I'm glad we're finally talking again."

"It was about time you finally came to fix things, you mean," she said, placing a hand on her hip.

For a moment, she looked like she was going to berate her brother in a way that could make my toes curl. But then she shook her head.

"Look, I still think that the business proposition Jacques Schnee gave you is practically the equivalent of you making a deal with the devil, if the rumors about the Schnees are true. I'm not about to easily forgive you for giving me the cold shoulder for a long time, either. But," she raised her hand before her brother could open his mouth, "I promise not to raise hell like I did last time. You have to admit, that _had_ been childish of me." She smiled. "So if you need my help, just contact me. We'll work things out."

"Really?"

"Really. Come on, we only have each other these days. Are you seriously looking to ruin that beyond repair?"

My uncle looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut short by a quick hug from Mom.

"You're an idiot, but you're still family." Mom stepped back and smacked her surprised brother on the shoulder. "Now go on and get going! You can be sentimental on your next visit—or ours."

"You're sure you're not pretending again to be okay when you actually aren't?"

"If I was, _you_ would know."

"Good point. Then I'll see you soon," my uncle said with a relieved smile.

Soon, he was off with his daughter. The two of them left the driveway in a surprisingly nondescript automobile, and Mom closed the door shut after waving goodbye at the retreating vehicle. Then, after closing her eyes, and exhaling the breath she felt like she'd been holding, she released all the tension she'd been skillfully hiding from my uncle. And me.

Note to self: improve observational skills. Could mean life or death.

She then turned to me. And crossed her arms. Despite feeling like I was about to be interrogated about a murder I didn't commit, I waited for her to speak.

"You do remember that there's no school today, right?"

I blinked. I actually was not aware. First of all, I had yet to refresh myself this morning of the daily going-ons of Vale. Then there was Billy from school the other day who was adamant about correcting me that there was going to be school today despite the maintenance checks— _oh, that horse-faced bastard._

"Well, whoever you're about to swear vengeance on, make sure the teacher doesn't catch you," Mom said, shaking her head at my stormy expression. At this point, it was a lost cause to stop me from doing something that would get me in trouble. Mom had decided it was in everyone's best interests if she reminded me as much as possible to be subtle and clever about things instead.

There was also that part about Mom admitting that she'd be a hypocrite if she said she didn't approve—she hip-deep in mischief during her childhood—of my actions, but that was neither here nor there.

"Right," I said, turning away to head back upstairs. "I'm just gonna head upstairs."

"Wait just one second there, sweetie. You're not staying at home, either."

I paused and raised my eyebrows at her, as if to ask, _then what am I going to do, do handstands in the living room?_

Mom was quick to bend down and ruffle my hair. _You already do that from time to time_.

"We're going to do a little out-of-town trip. Just a quick errand I have to do after the post office accidentally switched our packages with someone else's," she said before rolling her eyes. "I'm very certain the dress I ordered didn't magically turn into several Dust crystals during the delivery. It's nice and possibly more expensive than the dress, but that dress was a thousand times better."

"That dress was really pretty," I said in agreement. Mom had shown me the catalog a couple days ago and pointed out which she'd picked. It definitely matched the fur-lined black jacket she had, for sure.

"Exactly. So, like the kind soul that I am—don't look at me funny, dear—I volunteered to personally deliver where this is meant to go and do our little switcheroo." And then, after making sure my eyes hadn't glazed over from her long explanation, she said, "Plus, don't you agree that a change of scenery would be great for once? Not to mention that leaving you here all alone might be… a hazard."

Ignoring that last part, yes, indeed, a change of scenery would indeed be great for once. The sights and sounds of Vale had been very novel back when I was fresh from living a past life on Earth, but now I was looking to see some more variety. I didn't really get to enjoy the scenery change when we'd traveled to Atlas during that festival from before.

"So where are we going?"

Mom smirked, pulled a pair of sunglasses from her leg pocket, and slid them on. "We're going to Patch."

* * *

And that was how I found myself on a ship an hour later.

* * *

"You know," Mom said as I leaned onto the railing, eyeing the island that was steadily growing larger and larger. It was amazing how something that looked like a dot in the middle of the sea turned out to be one large mass of land. "I will never understand how you're hale and hearty on the seven seas but somehow dying a slow death up in the sky."

I shrugged helplessly; I didn't know what was up with that, either. This had to make for one massive dose of irony when Hope Summers spent her ship trips with a bucket near-permanently attached to her face.

"No, seriously. I'm actually wondering if this is somehow punishment for something you did in a past life. Which, in hindsight, is a stupid thought and air sickness strikes the unwary… but still."

She stared at me, as if waiting for my nausea to kick in and prove her wrong. But after a few seconds of nothing happening, she sighed.

"Oh well. Anyway, it's land ho in about thirty minutes. Patch has a small town that houses the pier, with a direct route leading to the only combat academy somewhere north of the island, but what little amount of homes that exist there are scattered across. We might have to do some asking when we're there," she explained. "For the meantime, I'll make sure our valuable package doesn't end up… you know."

 _Going boom_? I mouthed for her. She nodded in agreement and absently patted the messenger bag she brought with her. Dust, whether in crystal form or powdered form, was pretty weird like that.

"Pretty much."

After that, I returned my attention to the water. At a glance, there wasn't really much to say. It was water. And it was blue. Okay. But the farther we got away from the city, the clearer it got, and soon I was catching glimpses of all sorts of fishes scattering away from the ship. In fact—hey! I think I saw something big swim by just now!

Mom seemed to have noticed, too, but the thoughtful look on her face as she gazed down was definitely not what I was expecting.

"Okay, water-watching's definitely over for now. Let's not wait for something nasty to come jumping out."

I turned to her. "Like what?"

Mom thought of informing me what, exactly, she was referring to, but decided against it and shook her head.

"I'll tell you when you're older."

* * *

The town was, just as Mom said, small and modest compared to the busy sights I was used to seeing back in the city. There were only a handful of buildings scattered around the area, and the gaps between them were so big I could see the forests in the background.

In fact, I was pretty sure the town only consisted of a shop for travel supplies, a post office for deliveries to and from the mainland, an inn for weary travelers, and even a tavern (the medieval fantasy nerd in me perked up at that) for the folks who liked to spice up their nights... at least before they got kicked out for being too drunk and rowdy. Standard stuff, though definitely fascinating in my point of view; it wasn't every day I saw my fantasies come to life. But other than that, there was a lot more dirt and a lot less cement, more greens than grays, and more silence than buzz.

It was also a tight-nit community where the locals knew each other by name and could spot a stranger a mile away. And when they did, they simply smiled at us and went on with their businesses. No trace of the usual faunus treatment, nothing. Even Mom relaxed the moment it occurred to her that she didn't have to be on defense mode all the time during our brief stay.

Before I knew it, Caramel Adel had moved on to getting someone's attention with a quick smile and a compliment of the town, asking them her questions and, after a nice conversation plus couple of info-sharing, finally receiving directions leading towards the home of a certain Taiyang Xiao Long.

"It's a bit out of the main road's way," the lady had told Mom. "Something about liking the isolation… or the risk. I don't know. What I do know is that you won't be having trouble finding the place if you just stick to that small winding path away from the road. In fact… let me get you a map, just in case!"

Mom had also been told to be wary when traveling, especially with a little girl in tow. Despite the best efforts of the local Huntsmen to keep the roads safe for travelers and visitors, there was still the occasional Grimm found lurking in the surrounding forest. The numbers never really shrunk down for some reason—people were even afraid to admit that they were _rising._ All the local Huntsmen and Huntresses could do was wipe the floor with any and every Grimm they saw and hope that the island continued to be safe and habitable for the many years to come. Nobody wanted another Mountain Glenn. Not that I knew what that meant, exactly.

Anyway, the Grimm problem was actually the point where Mom considered making me stay here while she did her delivery. Better safe than dead, right? I might still feel fifteen from time to time, but by all rights, I was only seven. And seven-year-old girls weren't supposed to be traveling dangerously just yet.

But then I'd thought, hey, who's to say I'd be fine and dandy even if someone babysat me here? If my previous life taught me anything, it was that accidents happened anytime to anyone. You'd have an easier time dealing with something you knew was coming. And I was pretty sure I'd hear a Grimm coming with these ears of mine.

So before Mom could even so much as ease me into accepting her decision of having me stay here, I'd opened my mouth and spoke. I basically told her that I promise to stick close to her as we traveled. I wouldn't be noisy, I wouldn't go off and explore even if the itch was there, and I'd have my mouth zipped shut until we were somewhere safer. And if she told me to jump, I'd skip asking how high and just _do it_. I did _not_ just take a trip across the water and end up on an island just to stay in one place soon after.

Maybe it was the look in my eyes. Maybe it was my tone of voice. Whichever it was, it cracked through Mom's defenses and mollified her maternal instincts.

That wasn't to say that she didn't let me tag along without a catch, though. She only let me after I promised more than once to stay quiet, keep my eyes open, and keep finding potential hiding spots I could run to if a Grimm came by. That should be a piece of cake. I didn't have veteran skills at _I Spy_ a lifetime ago for nothing. Hehe.

Thankfully, the whole trip was uneventful as it could be. That was to say, uneventful, but nerve-wracking, what with Mom stopping every now and then to gauge the situation and confirm that we were still safe on the road. Her hand never left her weapon even for just a second.

But in the end, the forest remained quiet, the leaves continued rustling whenever the wind blew by, and there were no large, black monsters that came growling and knocking down trees in their wake. We'd managed to navigate through the forest until we found a clearing and slowed to a stop in front of what appeared to be a two-story log cabin with a red roof. The relief my Mom felt as she regarded the sight was palpable.

"It looks really nice," I said. So peaceful, and so quiet—the only thing that would ruin the atmosphere was a sudden Grimm appearance.

(For the record, you monsters: that was not your cue to come and do just that.)

"Sure does, but it's technically not in a prime location," Mom said, moving towards the door. She smirked as she glanced from side to side. "It does speak volumes about the kind of people who live here, though. Think about it: if you could keep a house from toppling over like a tower of cards while being smack dab in the middle of Grimm Central, you'd have to be some kind of a badass. More specifically"—she raised a fist and knocked on the door thrice—"a Huntsman."

What opened the door was not, however, a Huntsman.

It was a little girl with lilac eyes and blonde hair, the latter which was tied into low pigtails.

Ah, don't you just love it when build-ups end up being epic disappointments?

"Hi. Can I help you?" the girl asked, staring up at my mom. She couldn't possibly be older than me. Then again, kids my age tended to look alike. I'd have better luck guessing the numbers for tomorrow's lottery. The girl did look kind of anxious, though. She was definitely not expecting us at all.

In fact… we might have even caught her at a bad time.

Mom gave the girl a friendly smile. "If I'm not wrong, this is where Taiyang Xiao Long lives, yeah? Is your father home?"

In an ideal world, this would be the moment when the girl said yes and retreated into the house, returning with her father in tow. Introductions would be made and handshakes performed, the switcheroo would happen, and the two of us would be merrily making our way back home with a mission well and truly accomplished. Then we'd talk about the whole trip over dinner with Dad, with the faunus-in-question paling the moment he found out Mom made _me_ toe around danger outside the city. And so on, and so on.

Good thing this wasn't an ideal world.

The girl shook her head. "He went out for a bit. I'm holding down the fort for him while he's gone."

"Gotcha," Mom said. "So. Any idea where he might have gone? I've got something important I need to give him. I'd leave it here… but no offense, sweetie, it's something that needs special handling. I really can't."

"Yup," I piped in with a grin at the ready. Even if Mom didn't need the backup, I thought it'd make things easier if I helped establish a warm and friendly presence. "My mom's also here to get something your dad might have gotten accidentally. Did you guys get any mail recently?"

The girl's gaze looked distant for a moment as she recalled a particular memory. Then she returned to focus, and nodded.

"I think we did. So, my dad…" Her eyes briefly flickered over the bag that Mom had with her. "I think he went to Signal Academy. I'm not sure when he'll be back."

It didn't take a while for Caramel Adel to come to a decision. In fact, it was almost as if she was expecting something like this. "Then I'm off to Signal Academy. It shouldn't be too far from here, I think."

I wasn't entirely sure, myself. I wasn't exactly good at reading maps, but when Mom pointed where this house was, and then for funsies, pointed out where Signal was… it _looked_ pretty far. Time and distance was pretty hard to get an estimation of from a piece of paper.

But before I could even do so much a flash a final smile at the girl, say a quick "Bye!" and turn around to follow Mom, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. Now _I_ was the one staring up at the woman in question. What's the holdup?

"You're staying here until I get back."

I blinked. Once. Twice. I didn't know whether I was more surprised at my mom for suddenly being unwilling to let me tag along further when she'd already let me earlier, or at the wide-eyed girl, whom I now confirmed had an agenda that my parent was getting in the way of. I knew that look all too well. That was _my_ look when _my_ plans got ruined.

…And, well, my fox ears totally didn't miss that small, but sharp intake of breath.

"But—"

Mom knelt down and gave me a consoling pat on the head, one that I didn't bother shrinking away from. "Sorry, kiddo. Turns out, the trip we had to take just to get here was too much, even for me. I don't think my nerves can handle it if I took you even further within the island. Maybe…" She sighed. "Maybe when you're older."

I considered pushing back, insisting that I could handle whatever was thrown at me… but then I _really_ took a look at Mom's face. The confident facade she wore daily was there, but there was a reason why people say the eyes were the window to the soul; I managed to read the fear and concern on her face. Maybe I should've stayed back in town, after all.

"Fine," I said. I shook my head and shot her a grin to show I was going to be okay. "Promise you'll be back soon?"

Mom smiled and straightened back up. "Promise. As for you…" She was referring to the other girl this time. "What's your name?"

"Huh?" The girl—whom I realized had been staring at the two of us with what I'd guess was longing… and a hint of jealousy?—rapidly blinked her distracted state away. "Oh! I'm Yang."

"Yang. Got it. So, you don't mind if Mallow here hangs around while I go find your father, do you?"

Uh-oh, Mom had that _smile_ on. It was the smile that no one was immune to, the kind that practically said, "Y _ou wouldn_ _'t_ dare _say no, do you_?" The girl, Yang, was definitely no exception, and a bit of me felt a bit sorry she had to be the next unwitting victim.

"I… no. I don't mind."

"Great. Wonderful!" Mom said with a clap of her hands. "Then you girls behave while I'm gone. Don't worry, Yang, Mallow's a sweet girl. You'll get along just fine."

Yang and I exchanged glances, decided during that split second that we _might_ , and stared back at the woman.

Mom nodded in approval. "See, you're off to a good start already! I'll just get going now. Be back before you know it."

And she was off. Just like that. But I was pretty sure that, despite those confident strides she took as she went back the way we came, the woman deep inside was taking a leap of faith by leaving me here. In fact, maybe, just maybe, she was also giving a silent prayer to the gods above that nothing bad happened during her absence.

Anyway, seeing as things were just going to get awkward if Yang just left me standing there, the blonde girl was quick to open the door and let me slip inside.

Yang's house was surprisingly larger than I'd thought, making me feel thoroughly rused by its outside appearance. I mean, seriously, just look at the living room! The large green carpet at the center didn't even cover the entire wooden floor, and on top of it the set consisting of the dark green sofa, the matching chair, and the coffee table was made to appear rather small by the room's sheer size. There was more than plenty enough room for bookshelves both big and small, even, and I ended up swearing that someday, I was going to _own_ a house this nice.

…Not that I was saying ours at Vale was ugly, considering the family fortune (which at this point I was pretty sure my uncle had contributed to). But still.

Other than that, there just seemed to be one teensy, tiny thing that also stood out from the rest, after I finally picked up my jaw from the floor.

"Is that your sister? Why's she sleeping on a wagon?"

Yang retreated from the window she'd been apparently been peeking through while I made myself comfortable. Her lilac gaze switched from me to the wagon by the sofa, where a little girl with dark-ish hair in a red hood continued dozing… and Yang swallowed.

"Can you keep a secret?" Yang asked. She approached the object, took hold of the handle, and pulled it closer to her—and the door. And if I had to remember how she seemed anxious earlier...

Suddenly the puzzle pieces were snapping together.

"You're up to no good," I said, cutting straight to the point. "You are, aren't you?"

For a moment, Yang didn't seem to know what to do. She wasn't expecting to be suddenly shoved into the spotlight. And from the way she glanced at the door, then at me, her frown deepening, I'd say I wasn't wrong in guessing that she was torn between coughing up her confession or keeping it all tucked away deep inside. Then she finally came to a decision, and approached me.

"I'm just gonna go out and look for something," Yang explained. "I was supposed to do it earlier, but you guys came and—I'm not gonna do anything bad, I promise."

My blue eyes slid towards the wagon. "You're looking for 'something.' With your sister?"

"I can't leave her alone here," she said like it was that obvious. I'd argue that it would actually be safer leaving her here, possibly with me, but tangoing with a kid was the equivalent of yelling at a brick wall. Covered in cement.

"But you're going where?"

Yang's gaze was back to something far beyond the window. "Somewhere. I'll know it when I see it."

I found myself taking a step forward before I realized it. Yang's eyes widened... and so did mine.

I didn't know if that was what pulled the trigger, but suddenly, whatever fear was gripping Yang was suddenly replaced by cold, hard determination. For a moment her eyes might have even flashed red. But... hah, that was probably a trick of the eye. Pun unintended. Dying and reincarnating was one thing. But eyes changing color in just a blink? I'm pretty sure _that_ still didn't count as the Remnant version of normality!

But no matter how hard I tried to make light of my situation, I was unsettled all the same. That anxious girl from earlier was just _gone_.

"Are you going to stop me?" she asked. I eyed her clenched fists and considered my answer. I also tried not to gulp.

Here was a girl who could probably beat me black and blue if she had to. She might be smaller than me by an inch, but looks were deceiving. Here was also a girl who might just be one small spitfire, but at the same time, something that made me think I'd feel the burn if she did so much as incapacitate me before leaving the house, sister in tow, and going to… well, wherever she planned on going. And while I was no wimp myself and could probably fight back tooth and nail if backed into a corner, or just outsmart my way to victory since all that brawn was garbage when you didn't know how to use it…

I did, more or less, promise my mom to behave.

"Well?"

But then, maybe it was the fifteen-year-old in me, but I also found the thought of a little girl leaving without some kind of guardian to be unsettling. It was like letting a puppy run free across the freeway full of speeding cars, except that there was no puppy here, just a girl who really was not taking no for an answer.

Where was I supposed to place myself?

"No," I said with a shake of my head. But I didn't back off, either.

Yang seemed to find that acceptable anyway and relaxed her hands. She gave me a small smile.

"Then just stay there and wait for me to get back. I'll tell your mom you were great," Yang said. Before I could say anything, she turned away from me and moved towards the door. She pushed it open, left that way, went back for the wagon, and began pulling it towards the great outdoors.

There was the brief thud of wagon wheels hitting the dirt, but other than that, there were no other sounds but those of footsteps, soon to be distant and inaudible.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. There was no mistaking the fact that I felt dumb just standing there, looking at the open doorway and letting two kids just walk away. Make no mistake, I could definitely feel two sides of me fighting for dominion between keeping myself out of danger and endangering myself just to make sure those two girls were safe. One side was selfish, the other noble, but then there were the more complicated portions that I most definitely did _not_ have time to philosophize further.

Endanger two kids just because I didn't want Mom to come back to an empty house.

Let myself get in danger just to stop said two kids from going past the point of no return.

…

 _Argh!_

I tugged at my pink hair in frustration and let out a defeated groan. Then I turned away, tried not to think about how I'd been at a conundrum for five minutes (at least, the clock said so), and marched past the open door. I then made sure to shut the thing close behind me so that nothing unwanted entered the house while its owners were gone.

Then I scanned my surroundings. I tried finding something, anything I could follow. I spy with my little eye a— _yes_ , perfect.

While it wasn't as obvious as I'd hoped, there were still two lines traced on the dirt that moved almost endlessly forward into the woods. Lines that were definitely from the wheel of a wagon.

But, before I could take a couple more steps forward, I paused and looked back at the house. All those second thoughts were nagging me, pulling me back and insisting this was suicide. Was I really risking my neck for this? For a bunch of kids I didn't even know or, frankly speaking, care enough about?

But then I turned away and shook my head. And rapped my head for good measure (ow).

Next thing I knew, I was running through the woods and following the tracks. At the same time, I kept my ears sharp and alert for the sounds of footsteps and creaky wagon wheels.

Mom was totally going to kill me for not staying put.

…At least Dad's going to make sure the funeral's nice.

* * *

A/N: _Hiiiiii guys. Thank you very much for waiting! It's hard to write all these when I work full-time and split the rest of my time between sleeping, gaming, and writing, but I managed to get this out just before the month ended. Silver lining, there!_

 _Okay, so I hadn't really gone over this chapter with a fine-toothed comb just yet. I'm definitely going over this again in the future, so I'm not going to be surprised if you guys find something wrong or nonsensical about the chapter. As y'all should, because what makes sense to me might not to you, and it helps to have a second pair of eyes. :D  
_

 _Other than that, I don't really have much to say other than me hoping some characters are portrayed alright - things are still pretty different since they're just kids at this point. So with that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and feel free to let me know if you do via review, a fave, or a follow! It's all up to you guys._

 _(And, yes, next chapter is definitely something I hope changes some things for Mallow. You guys probably already know what's going to happen already. I just hope I have the sufficient skills to pull those later scenes off!)_


End file.
